We All Fall Down -The 49th Hunger Games SYOT-
by IceVeinsVillain
Summary: After a string of anticlimactic Games, the President decides to shake up the districts. Of course, not so much as to downplay the coming Quarter Quell. In the hands of a Gamemaker desperate to keep her life, and willing to take horrifying risks as a result, the 49th Hunger Games may come crashing down. Arena, Tributes, and All.
1. Prologue

Chapter 1: Prologue

Head Gamemaker Mercedes Virgo woke up with images of previous Games still swimming around in her mind from the night before, which she'd spent making notes that would prove very useful in the preparation of her own arena. Mercedes was doing her best to evade the fate of the previous Head Gamemaker, Hammond Sharp, who, after the discovery of a large amount of similarities between his games and the ones before them, had found his career cut short.

Well, his career wasn't the only thing that was cut short. Everyone knows what happens to Gamemakers that are found wanting.

Shaking that morbid thought out of her mind, Mercedes climbed out of her monumentally large bed and nearly disappeared into the fabric of her oversized bathrobe made entirely of opulent black fur. "Bigger is better." She thought, making her way to the bathroom and calling out to her shower. "Short and sweet today, model thirteen, I have a lot to do!" Looking into the mirror at her aging face, the hopeful woman waited as the shower changed it's assorted shampoo, water color, and water pressure settings accordingly.

After the regrettably short shower, and four hours of hair and makeup, Mercedes finally stepped off of her front step and into the crowds of people on their way to post-Games entertainment and shopping. Her target was the small but exclusive "President's Club" reserved only for those greatly favored by President Snow. She'd never been inside the place before, but after today's meeting she was hoping to find a place among the regulars. Escorted into a small, private room upon her arrival, Mercedes set all of her plans and assorted visuals out in an orderly manner and waited. She was kept waiting for several long, agonizing minutes before President Snow finally walked in, fixing her with an uncanny stare. Mercedes held her breath as he walked silently forward and began assessing the blueprints for the up and coming forty-ninth Hunger Games, his pale hands shuffling through the pages quickly and methodically. "It needs something." He said, shattering the stillness of the room.

"Something?" The Gamemaker stammered. "What kind of something?"

"Something that will stand out, keeping our people interested, and their people afraid." He said, sitting down and pulling out a pen, his hand expertly sketching something on a piece of paper just outside of Mercedes' view. "Over the last decade, Ms. Virgo, some have been saying that the Games have become predictable. This not only defeats the purpose for which the Games were initially created, but is frightening in its consequences." She nodded, realizing that the odds of pulling off a successful Games might not be as much in her favor as she would have liked. "I trust you will be up to the task that Hammond Sharp was not?" The President raised his eyebrow at the end of his question, fixing his eyes on Mercedes once again.

"Certainly, Sir." She said, glancing around the room, trying to break his stare. "But, what kind of something are you expecting? Landscape? Mutts?" Snow stood, walked across the room, and dropped the scrap of paper he'd drawn on in front of his new Head Gamemaker.

"Something," he said, walking towards the door. "Like that." As President Snow left, signaling the end of the brief meeting, Mercedes looked down at the drawing.

There was certainly nothing predictable about this.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello everyone! This is my first writing venture in fanfiction, and I'm excited to get deep into the Games! As this will be an SYOT, so I would love for you to submit some possibile candidates!**

**PM me the tribute name, basic physical description, character traits, and any other information you think is relevant such as family, economic status, stuff like that. Remember to submit real people with real flaws. I already struggle with idealism (making everything perfect, everyone beautiful, physically fit, intelligent, and ready to win the Games), so try to help me out by sending flawed tributes my way!**

**Let me know if you have an suggestions for my writing as well, I'm completely open for some constructive criticism!**

**Thanks! And may the Odds be Ever in your Favor. ;) -IceVeinsVillain**


	2. Pre-Reaping Prep -V

Chapter 2: Pre-Reaping Prep

Virgo, as Mercedes was now more widely known around Gamemaker headquarters, was just sitting down at the elaborate mahogany desk reserved for the Head Gamemaker when her office door opened, admitting the hurried, stressed form of her assistant and prompting her to rise from the plush chair with a sigh. "What is it now?" She snapped.

"There are complications arising with the arena," he started, gasping for air between each sentence fragment. "The head trainer from Two is here asking for information on the arena, the computers that were generating the DNA for your new mutts went down, the dress you were planning to wear during the Flickerman interview tonight is missing, and President Snow just sent a message asking if things are running smoothly."

Virgo rolled her eyes and sat down in her chair, relishing the opportunity to get off of her feet. "Is that all?" She asked, pulling the newly developed energy-giving pill from a drawer and swallowing four of the shiny, purple spheres; twice the suggested dose. Thank goodness for medicinal research going on in District Six, she thought as the young man continued.

"Well, no…" He said, his voice dropping to a whisper as his gaze flicked to the door, the windows, and even the air vents. "The tribute you selected from Four drowned herself last night."

"_I_ selected?" Virgo asked, her face twisting into a tense, terrifying imitation of a smile as she too checked any place an eavesdropper could be hidden. "The reapings are completely random-" she paused as she read the young man's nametag. "Mr. Crest. No single child from any of the districts is specially chosen, and I would love for you to remember that." Though her voice was sickly sweet, the warning came in loud and clear.

"Yes, ma'am." The assistant said, swallowing hard.

"Now, listen closely and do exactly as I say. Tell Two's head trainer that his tributes will have to do without their customary foreknowledge this year, send for a team of repairmen from Three and get them working on the computers as soon as possible, and tell Snow that I can barely believe how well everything is coming together." Virgo let out another sigh and continued. "Reschedule the Flickerman interview for tomorrow, and send the specialists who noticed the arena problems into my office."

"Yes, ma'am." He muttered again as he backed out the door, and hurried back down the hallway. Virgo had changed since her last meeting with the President. In the beginning stages of her work she had seemed to enjoy even the most menial tasks, loving the process of creating what would be the latest installment in the legendary Hunger Games. Ever since the meeting, however, she'd started snapping at everyone, shouting orders, and firing people that weren't up to her so called "efficiency" standards. Undoubtedly because of the many changes she had integrated into the Games since then, her stress levels were through the roof, leading her to the constant dosage of the pills he had seen on her desk. If his suspicions as to why the changes had occurred were correct, he hoped for her sake that she would be able to pull off the Games that seemed so thrilling on paper.

As he neared the main office, Crest gestured to the arena specialists, sending up a silent prayer for each of them as they disappeared into Virgo's office one by one. With a deep breath, he walked to his small, insignificant desk, quickly typing out the falsified reply to Snow's message.

"Everything is going splendidly, thank you for your interest. –M. Virgo."

Virgo stepped off the ladder hanging from her personal hovercraft and onto the sand of the arena, her platinum hair whipping around her face from the force of the machine's engines. Taking in her surroundings, a small smile started to form on her recently lifted and now miraculously wrinkle-free face. "Well, it _looks_ perfect!" She shouted to the rest of her team as they too descended from the craft. "The cameramen are going to love this!" The team nodded their agreement, complimenting her on the great work she had done as they led her into the shade.

"Yes, it looks fabulous," one of the more senior arena specialists said. "And I can't wait to see the effect it has on the audience, but the speed at which we were forced to build the infrastructure led to it being eroded away by the water. The whole thing is in danger of collapsing."

"Hmm," Virgo mused, still unable to tear her eyes away from her own design. "That is a problem." The others in the group glanced at each other uneasily; this was surprisingly calm behavior from their commander and chief.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you understand the implications of this." Another said, trying her best to grab Virgo's attention. "If this happened during the Games, it wouldn't be climactic, it would be a disaster. It would expose the inner workings of all the arenas, and leave the Capitol without a victor. President Snow would be furious!" This last statement wrenched Virgo out of her daydreaming.

"The reapings start tomorrow. At this rate of erosion, when is the collapse expected to happen?" She asked.

"Worst case scenario, it goes under in two weeks." The first man admitted. "At best, it survives for around four. Either way, it will most likely happen during the Games." Virgo bit her bottom lip and started walking away from the group, prompting them to follow.

"I'm expecting to run a fast-paced Games this year," she said, thinking aloud. "But if your calculations are correct, we'll still run into some issues…" The group stood, silently waiting for their leaders decision. "We have to ahead with it."

"What?" The collective exclamation of the crowd was quickly replaced with the noise of all of them objecting at once.

"It's not safe!" One cried.

"We'll be the laughingstock of future Gamemakers!"

"It was undoubtedly a daring idea," the closest to Virgo said over the noise of the crowd. "Creating this entire place with little help from the local topography was genius, but sticking with it when this new information has come to light? It's insane!"

"Quiet!" Virgo yelled, instantly silencing the group. They quickly remembered why they hadn't spoken to this particular Head Gamemaker in such a manner up to this point. "The reaping is tomorrow! We don't have time to create a new arena, and using last year's model is _not_ an option!" The group started inching away from her as her voice quickly rose to a screech. "I will _not_ be humiliated by an unsuccessful Games. This _will_ work, and if it doesn't, we're all as good as dead!" The group gasped, no one spoke like this aloud, even if everyone was thinking it.

"Just because we're desperate for it to work doesn't mean it will!" A voice spoke from the back of the group.

"No," she answered, finally calming down. "But it will affect our actions, which _can_ make it work. We only have one option, strengthen the structure as best you can and plant sensors on the surface. We'll monitor the erosion and if things accelerate too quickly, we'll send in a team to fix it."

"_During_ the Games?" A small man gasped, almost fainting at the thought.

"Yes, _during _the Games." She answered, rolling her eyes and reaching into her pocket for more of the small, purple pills. "We have the tools to keep any tributes from coming too close to the areas we're working on, and most of it will be under the surface anyway. It will be risky, but it's what we have to do."

The rest of the day was spent touring the rest of the arena and setting up camera angles, all the people present wearing a look of grim determination, and thinking the same thing.

The only way the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games would fail would be over their dead bodies.


	3. A Love Kept Alive (D8)

Chapter 2: District 8 reaping: A Love Kept Alive. For Now.

District 8

* * *

The petite, blonde girl woke up on the day of the reaping and all she could think about was that she was glad that it was. Reaping day was the only break the people of district eight got in an otherwise grueling work schedule. Sixteen year old Colleen, or "Lena" as she was more commonly known, sat up and grudgingly pushed off the rough, gray blanket that's warmth still held the memory of the night before. Standing up, she walked down the old, slanting staircase and stepped into the kitchen, where her older sister Emmy was standing by the stove and talking to their younger brother Dustin. "—Yes, Dusty, that's why we have to get all dressed up today." While she was doing her best to sound upbeat, her tone betrayed the exhaustion she was trying to hide from the four-year old. Because Emmy worked the night shift at the factory, she would normally be going to bed around this time if it weren't reaping day. "Good morning, sleeping beauty." She said disapprovingly when she noticed Lena's presence. "Are you sure you don't want breakfast in bed?"

"No," Lena said sitting down next to her brother. "I think I'll be okay, sorry I slept in."

"Come on, Em, don't be so hard on her." Their older brother Austin interrupted, stepping through the front door. "She does have lot on her mind." The end of his sentence slipped into laughter as he winked and elbowed Lena, making her pale cheeks blush furiously, and forcing the edges of her lips into a small smile. Although it wasn't common knowledge around the district, Lena had accepted a proposal of marriage from her boyfriend of two years, Aden Hanran. They had planned the wedding for tonight, after the reaping was over and the buzz had quieted down. "By the way," Austin said, smiling at Lena as Emmy rolled her eyes. "I was just talking to Ma on her break, she says she wouldn't miss tonight for the world."

Lena didn't see much of her mother anymore. After their father's death two years before, Ma had begun working eighteen-hour shifts at the factory every day to make up for the loss of income. Austin and Emmy, then at the ages of nineteen and sixteen, started working as well, which more than helped provide for the family, but their mother still sunk most of her time into the factory. Some people around the district said she couldn't bear being at home when she knew he wasn't going to be there. Others said she couldn't stand to see Dustin, who is looking more and more like our father the older he gets. While Emmy works in the same factory as Ma, spending a few hours each day with her when their shifts overlap, Lena didn't get much time with her. She was usually asleep by the time her mother came home, and the older woman was usually gone by the time she woke up. Lena was glad to hear that Ma would be at the wedding though. Who knows what her mother had to have promised the overseer to get a whole evening off.

* * *

Aden Hanran ran down an alley between two factories, leading his crew of six people away from the peacekeepers. There would have been seven, but Rowan had been taken by several peacekeepers that had seemed to appear out of nowhere. Poor guy. Aden split with the rest of the group, taking a hard right, sliding to a stop, and throwing himself down next to one of the many public trashcans that were set at random around the district. Quickly pulling off his dark, nondescript hat, he freed his startlingly red hair just as the peacekeepers rounded the corner and descended on him. "A group just ran down that alley." The largest of the group shouted, pointing towards the space that Aden's crew had indeed just come through. "Which way did they turn?" The man was practically spitting with rage. Wordlessly, and with a look of over exaggerated shock, Aden pointed to a small side path that led back in the direction the peacekeepers had just come through. Cursing, the group turned away from Aden and ran in the indicated direction. Waiting until they were all out of sight, the young man breathed a heavy sigh and slowly pushed his muscled frame off of the ground, beginning the journey back to the crew's hideout.

Because of the reaping, and the resulting work break for all but the most hardworking individuals, there were plenty of crowds for him to disappear into, but that also meant more peacekeepers would be around as well, so the young man kept his eye out for followers, taking a roundabout route back to the small, condemned building his crew was using as a rendezvous point this week. Rounding the last corner, he walked into the main room of the dilapidated structure, catching a small bit of conversation from his friends. "We're going to have to bust him out tonight," a tall, built, eighteen year old boy was saying. "Rowan's never been the strongest willed member of the crew, and if they have enough time to get to him, he'll rat us all out."

"Sorry," Aden interrupted, causing all six heads to swivel in his direction. "But I'm a little busy this evening, can we reschedule?" Several crew members grinned knowingly. "The peacekeepers will be busy with the reaping anyway, we'll have plenty of time to get him out. Where's today's haul?" Aden asked, prompting a tall, skinny girl to reach into a closet and pull out a bulging cloth sack.

"Here," she said, handing it to Aden. "You were right, they weren't expecting anything like this on reaping day, so most of it was just laying out in the open."

"All hail the wise decisions of our fearless leader." Brutus said sarcastically, giving Aden a good-natured shove as he spilled the contents of the sack on the floor, bending down to take a look with the rest of the crew. The mess consisted of mostly weapons and food, but there was a decidedly out-of-place silk purse sitting next to the everyday items. Aden stood up and opened it, sending several small luxury items tumbling down onto the people searching through the rest of the loot. Amidst the many beauty products contained within the purse was a small silver ring adorned with a tiny red jewel. Aden slid the ring onto the smallest finger of his left hand, his eyes widening as the jewel somehow unfolded itself into a glowing ruby flower. The crew stopped what they were doing and stared as Aden slid the ring on and off his finger repeatedly, causing the flower to open and close with each repetition. This little piece of jewelry was worth more than the average factory worker could earn in a year.

"You should give that to—" Benny, one of the youngest of the group, stopped short due to the arrival of the only crew member that had been absent during today's raid on the peacekeeper outpost.

"Cols!" Aden exclaimed turning around while expertly keeping the purse, ring included, behind his back. "How did you get away so early?" Handing off the items to Benny, he walked over and gave his fiancée a hug, trying to keep her from looking over his shoulder as the crew quickly stashed the newfound gift under a loose floorboard.

"Austin got home early." Lena said, smiling and breathing in his familiar scent as she hugged him back. "He took Dusty out to watch them dress up the justice building, and Emmy's getting everyone's clothes ready." She stepped back, took a glance at the stuff piled on the floor, and looked into Aden's hazel eyes with her own icy blue pair. "On reaping day?" She asked, a little disapprovingly. "You could have gotten caught! Besides, Aden, it's not just reaping day, it's _our _day. Do you really want to risk giving all that up?" Her eyes fell to the ground and she backed away from Aden, whose face immediately fell.

"I'm sorry Cols," he said, crossing the space between them and reaching out a hand to lift her chin up until he was looking into her eyes. "It was an easy in, easy out. I didn't even think of it as a risk, but you were right. I was wrong, can you forgive me?" After a moment, she stood up on her toes and kissed him briefly on the lips.

"Of course I forgive you." She said, smiling.

"Besides," Aden said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "You _are _marrying a rebel, you'll have to get used to this sort of thing."

* * *

After a morning of selling and bartering the stolen goods, Lena finally said goodbye to Aden and went back home, opening the door and running up the stairs to find one of her mother's old dresses laid out on her bed. "Emmy!" She called out, walking into the stairwell. "Where'd my dress from last year go?" Her sister poked her head out of the room she shared with their mother and answered.

"You are getting married today." She came out of the bedroom and walked into the bathroom the family shared, looking at her self in the mirror. "You can't dress like a girl anymore, you have to dress like a woman." As Lena stepped into the bathroom as well, Emmy's hands immediately moved from her own hair to her sister's, pulling it up and tying it into intricate knot that looked as if she had fashioned it from pure, shining gold.

"Thank you." Lena said simply, starting to tear up. Her mother should have been here by now. Her father should still be here. The tears started to fall faster as she thought about her Pa. She had no right to wish he was here, it was her fault he was gone after all. Lena's father had been a rebel, an enemy of the Capitol, and a man who stood up for what he believed in, teaching his children to do the same. However, peacekeepers had overheard Lena talking to Austin about events that would only have been known to the rebels, leading to their father being shot in front of the entire district at the justice building.

Pa was sacrificed as an example of the consequences of defying the Capitol, and all because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. Every time she felt his absence she just couldn't stop the tears.

Emmy wrapped Lena in a hug and rocked her back and forth, like her mother used to do. "It's okay," she said. "Everything's okay." That was when Dustin walked into the room, dressed in a little suit that had been Austin's, and looked up at his sisters.

"Why is Leny crying?" He asked, walking up and hugging Lena's legs. "Don't cry, Leny." Emmy picked up the little boy and walked out of the small room, brushing at his suit, and left her sister alone, staring into the mirror.

That's right, Leny, the girl thought, watching her reflection wipe the tears from her eyes.

Don't cry.

* * *

Aden stepped up to the peacekeeper, letting the man take his hand and roughly draw the blood sample they needed for this years reaping. Looking around at all the tall figures dressed in white, he laughed to himself. They didn't even know that he, and most of the other kids he could see around him were the ones keeping the rebellion alive. Stoking the fires of revolution that would undoubtedly end up burning the Capitol to the ground. Walking toward the oldest group of young men waiting for the reaping, he took his place and watched the love of his life go through the line as well, walking to her own age group and flashing him a nervous smile from across the square. Then, inevitably, the film started. Aden didn't know why they kept on showing the same enraging Capitol propaganda that they forced the districts to swallow every year. It didn't change the way people felt. Looking around, he could tell who the rebels were just by the hateful glances they were giving the woman standing on the stage by the mayor. As soon as the film ended, that same woman rushed to the front of the stage in a flash of neon orange and green. "Happy Hunger Games!" She shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly into the microphone. "I am _so_ happy that I'm here in District…" She paused a moment, looking back at the mayor who was mouthing the answer ridiculously. "Eight!" She said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence and causing half of the crowd to jump. "I just love everything you do here, so I sincerely say, may the odds be _ever _in your favor!" She paused again, this time with an awkward smile plastered on a face that obviously expected applause. She didn't get any. "Well, ladies first!" Walking over to the large glass ball, the woman picked a small slip of paper from the top of the bunch and read the name out in clear, ringing voice. "Colleen Reyna!"

Aden felt like he'd been punched in the gut. No. He thought, not now. Not when everything had seemed to be so perfect. Maybe he had heard wrong, maybe the woman couldn't read very well, but no. There she was, looking even more like an angel than usual, walking up onto the stage, her whole body shaking like leaves in the wind. When she reached her place next to the woman, she stood still. Completely alone. As the woman picked the name of the male tribute from the ball, Aden heard his own voice, full of raw emotion, cry out. "I volunteer!" The whole square fell into silence as he tore through the crowd, up the stage, and next to Lena.

"Please, young man," the woman said, obviously alarmed at being interrupted. "We like to do things a certain way here, and you are most definitely breaking protocol."

Lena looked up into his eyes and whispered. "No. Let me go. This is your last year, Aden, don't waste your life because of me." Tears streamed down her face and she furiously wiped them away, trying to hide her face from the cameras.

"Don't say that." He whispered back, his face inches from hers. "My life is nothing without you." And he kissed her. Right in front of the entire district, as well as all of Panem. The woman, who despite their best efforts _had _heard the entire conversation, let out a small wail.

"Oh!" She cried. "How lovely! And yet, how tragic." She cried the entire time the mayor recited the treaty of treason before announcing the end of the official proceedings. "Ladies and gentleman of district eight, I give you your tributes for the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games!" There was a smattering of applause as peacekeepers led the two young people into the justice building and separated, waiting for what they couldn't help thinking would be the last time they would speak to their family and friends.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello all! This is the first of the reapings, and they will all probably follow a similar pattern, though I may throw in some post-reaping conversations every once in a while. I have half of my tributes submitted, which I'm very thankful for, but I still need 12 more! Take a look at my profile for the list of tribute spots available, and PM me your tributes! Tell your friends too! -IceVeinsVillain**


	4. Fashion Faux Pas (D1)

Chapter 3: District 1 reaping: Fashion Faux Pas

District 1

* * *

As the sun rose on district one, the Sparks' home was still buzzing with activity. Dozens of maids and designers practically ran from room to room, putting the final touches on the various projects that had been specially commissioned for the forty-ninth annual reaping. Color-changing dinnerware straight from the Capitol set in the dark, wood-paneled dining room, enormous white fur rugs perfectly arranged in the den, and of course, the newest fountain piece. This year's model standing at a dizzying thirteen feet tall, and featuring the son of the house, Bliss.

When they finished at precisely eight twenty-three, the entire crew lined up along the driveway and waited as the three residents of the house inspected the work that their employees had done. "The whole house looks like a palace, darling, it's perfect!" The lady of the house, Dazzle Sparks, said, her eyes lighting up whenever she spotted a piece of her own design.

The answer came after a pause, accompanied by a small frown. "It's no Victor's Village, but it'll have to do."

Bronze Sparks was the youngest of three brothers born to parents who were both victors. The eldest brother, Gold, won the Games himself, earning his own place in the Village. The second brother, Silver, never won the Games himself, but instead got married and fathered six beautiful daughters. The girls were quickly noticed, and one by one they were taken to have an "illustrious" career in the Capitol. Silver and his wife, Celeste, were heartbroken, knowing full well what that career would be. However, as a result of their heartbreak, they were given the unused mansion in Victor's Village that had been won by Silver's mother. This left Bronze and his family as the only ones left without a place in the Village, causing him to greatly resent his brothers. However, the family had one last chance. That chance was currently looking at himself in the mirror.

"What do _you_ think, Bliss?" The boy's mother asked.

"Oh, it's nice." He said, turning and flashing his dazzling, perfectly white smile. "Do you think I should wear my silver suit this afternoon? Or something white?" Dazzle looked him up and down, reaching up and pushing the boys blond hair away from his clear, blue eyes.

"Silver, I should think." She said, backing up, turning her son to once again face the mirror, and looking at him from the new perspective. "That horrid Agate child will be wearing white, and we wouldn't want anyone to notice the similarity." The boy nodded his agreement and rolled his eyes. Life in district one was a constant competition, and if you let up for even a moment you'd get dragged down the social ladder faster than you could say, "Faux Pas."

* * *

Long, brown hair, straight as an arrow, fell to the ground, the sound of scissors echoing in the small room. The previous owner of the hair was a tall girl, Lace, who was tearing up at the sight of her pride and joy being destroyed, even if it was turning into a rather attractive, shoulder length version of its previous glory. "You agree with me, right, Issie?" The girl asked her best friend, the one holding the scissors. "It would always be getting in the way, and I don't want to have to cut it right before the Games."

"Oh yeah," the girl said. "It would be a pain in the arena, and you want to make sure the sponsors are able to recognize you from your interview." The girl set the scissors down, and ran her hands through the remainder of her friend's hair, eyeing her handiwork.

"Thank you _so_ much." Lace said, standing up to her towering height of six feet and three inches. "Where did you learn how to cut hair again?" The other, much smaller, darker girl, held up a book.

"I read." She laughed, following Lace out of the room and into the adjoining space, an exquisitely furnished bedroom. "Because _I_ don't spend all of my time training for barbaric child sacrifice dressed up as entertainment."

"Stop!" Lace gasped, dropping the shimmering dress she had held up to herself onto the bed. "If anyone else heard you talking like that you'd be in serious trouble, Issie." The other girl rolled her eyes and sat down heavily into an arguably overstuffed armchair. "Besides," Lace said, picking the chosen dress up again. "The Games are my life. I've been waiting for this day for a _long_ time, and when you talk like that, it makes me feel bad."

"I'm sorry," the girl said, her fingers playing with the ends of her long, wavy, black hair. "I just feel like it's been long enough. The districts get it, the Capitol's in control, they shouldn't have to hold the Games anymore."

"Yeah, but then we wouldn't have any fun." Lace said, smiling at her friend.

Lace's views had always been very different from her friend's, but that couldn't get between them. Growing up as the most promising candidate in district one's training program had made Lace a common enemy for all the other girls in her year, blocking most of her friendship opportunities. Because Isis, or Issie as Lace called her, had never been the biggest fan of the Games, she had hadn't been in training at all. This mutual exclusion, though for very different reasons, had brought the girls together, forming an unbreakable bond between the two. "You know what's going to stink?" Lace asked, gesturing for her friend to get up and help her into her dress.

"What?"

"Being away from you." Lace frowned into the wall-length mirror, watching her friend start on the many ties and laces in the back of her reaping dress. Isis looked up and paused before answering.

"It'll only be, like, a month right?" She said cheerfully. "Unless you kill them all sooner…" This made Lace smile briefly.

"Oh stop." The tall, beautiful girl said, a sigh escaping from her lips. "But… what if I don't come back?" She asked, the mood in the room changing into a quiet fear. Tears started to well up in her eyes as she glanced around the room. Seeing her things through the lens of her own death made the place seem like a horrible mockery of life and luxury. The trappings of a dead girl weren't much use to her anymore, were they?

"Stop it." The other girl said firmly. "You've said it yourself. The other tributes will be weak like they always are, and you already know what you're going to do about the Sparks kid. _You_ are going to win. _You_ are going to come back. Because _you_ were born for it."

* * *

After an unbearable lunch with the relatives, Bliss dressed quickly into his flashy silver suit and gave himself one last look before heading to the reaping. He looked great, that was obvious, but he couldn't help but frown at the mirror. He was only _just _taller than six feet. This will probably be the first year that the girl tribute is taller than the boy, he thought, disappointed. This was no time to think about such trivial things though, the entire pride of his family was on his shoulders, and he was not going to disappoint his father. Not again.

Walking down the long, winding staircase, Bliss joined his parents in the family car and headed toward the justice building. As they got closer to the monumental behemoth of stone and precious metal, the boy marveled at the greatness of his district. Though district two was also considered a "career" district as the lower districts called them, it was nowhere near district one in greatness or natural beauty. Why the Capitol didn't envelop the luxury district into itself was a great mystery to Bliss, and he hoped that after his work in the arena was finished, he would be able to make the ties between the two places even stronger.

When they finally arrived, Bliss's parents took their seats in the vast, outdoor stadium built onto the side of the justice building, and he went and stood with the other boys his age. They all glared at Bliss upon his arrival, as this would have been their last chance to compete in the games, but _he_ was the one who had been chosen for the honor. He didn't mind though, he was now so far above them socially that their opinion couldn't harm him a bit.

Claire Desmonte, the district escort walked onto the stage to be met by a truly thunderous applause. "Hello again, district one!" The cheers grew to a deafening volume, forcing her to take a step back from the microphone and give small curtsies until they quieted down. "I can't wait to meet the latest victors," the woman feigned embarrassment, covering her face with her hand before continuing sweetly. "I mean, tributes." The crowd roared again, the excitement in the stadium rising to an all time high. "But first," she said. "The film." The crowd quieted, and watched the video on the large screen set above the escort's head. While everyone else was watching the film, Bliss looked to his right, over into the group of eighteen year-old girls. When Lace caught his eyes, she gave him a curt nod, immediately turning her face back to the screen. As confident as he was in his own abilities, Bliss had seen her in a mock fight the week before, and he was not looking forward to facing her down in the arena.

As the film faded to black, Ms. Desmonte walked back to the center of the stage and reached her hand into the large glass bowl with the boy's names inside. Lifting the name out, she read the name. "Sheen Chavelle!" The boy walked up onto the stage and let out a huge breath, expressing his boredom. "Do we have any volunteers?" Ms. Desmonte asked, holding a hand out to the section of eighteen year-olds.

"I volunteer!" Bliss called out, sauntering out onto the stage and bring the escort's outstretched hand to his lips.

"And what is _your_ name?" The escort asked, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.

"Bliss Sparks!" He said strongly into the microphone. The crowd cheered again as Ms. Desmonte pretended to faint before leaving Bliss at his place and walking towards the opposite bowl. Reaching in, she read from one of the small, gold cards once again, this time saying, "Emerald Reign!" A small girl walked up onto the stage and stood for a moment, waiting for the woman standing beside her to ask the customary question. When she had done so, a strong voice called out to volunteer, and the whole district waited as the girl walked up onto the stage.

* * *

There was a moment of silence before one brave soul called out, "What?" Bliss's eyes narrowed as he was joined on the stage, not by the fighting protégée Lace Oman, but instead by a small, dark girl with an intelligent look in her eye.

"Well," Ms. Desmonte said, seemingly unfazed by the turn of events. "What is _your_ name?"

"Isis Anne Carlisle!" She declared, her voice almost drowned out by a scream from the crowd.

"No!" Lace charged onto the stage. "_I_ volunteer!" She screeched. "This is _my _year!" The crowd erupted in outrage at the audacity of the smaller girl.

"Everyone," Ms. Desmonte said, using hand gestures to calm the crowd down. "Please calm down. The official proceeding in district one is, if two individuals volunteer to take the place of the same individual named in the reaping, and neither will rescind their proclamation, the mayor will determine, through deliberation with the reaping council, which will be the tribute sent to compete in the Hunger Games." The crowd quieted down, remembering the protocol they had set up in case this happened. One of the few peacekeepers seen standing around the edge of the stage walked up and took blood from each of the tribute hopefuls, walking back to the reaping council who put forward the blood sample that matched their choice. After testing the blood samples, and a hurried conversation with Ms. Desmonte, the peacekeeper went back to his place, and the escort walked to the microphone. "The chosen tribute is," the crowd fell silent and Lace stepped forward confidently. "Isis Anne Carlisle. District one, these are your tributes!"

Lace turned and punched Isis in the left eye, knocking her flat onto her back. Peacekeepers immediately grabbed her arms and dragged her backwards, keeping her away from the squirming form of her friend. "I hate you!" Lace screamed. "I _hate_ you!"

Isis stood, covering her quickly blackening eye with one hand, and shaking Bliss's hand with the other. Bliss pulled her close and looked down at her, whispering so that only she could hear. "Thank you." It was a friendly statement, but when Isis looked into the eyes of her competitor, all she saw was triumph.

* * *

Bliss stood in his room of the justice building for just a moment before the doors opened, admitting his parents. "My baby!" His mother said, her smile spreading from ear to ear. "We were a little worried about that Lace girl, but now that's all out of the way. You're going to win, without a doubt!" She gave her son a big hug, and his father joined them quickly.

"Son," Bronze said. "You are the greatest blessing in my life, do me proud." The two parents walked out, leaving Bliss with a confident smile on his face.

* * *

Isis sat in a chair against the wall of her room, cautiously feeling her swollen eye when the door opened. Expecting her horrified parents, she was instead greeted by Lace. Her childhood friend looked at her and spoke quietly. "Thank you."

"That wasn't for you." Isis said. "It was for the people of the districts. I'm going to beat them, I'm going to find some way to end the games."

"I know," Lace answered, still standing close to the door. "But you knew I didn't want to go in there. You knew I didn't want to die." After a moment, Isis nodded and the girls stepped toward each other and into a hug. "If you come back—" Lace cut herself off. "_When_ you come back. We'll take on the Capitol together."

The peacekeepers opened up the doors and Lace's tears were replaced by the horrified looks of Isis's family.

"Why?" They asked simply. "Why?"

* * *

**A/N  
**

**Hello again! I hope you're liking the reapings so far. I do my best to keep them brief, but it doesn't work. Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your thoughts! -IceVeinsVillain**


	5. A Very Good Year (D9)

Chapter 4: District 9: A Very Good Year

District 9

* * *

"I'm sorry," the small, shaking girl whimpered. "I can't bring you food anymore." Tanita Humbrid grabbed the girl's arm, whipping her around until they were so close that their faces were almost touching.

"Why not?" The large, intimidating girl asked menacingly.

"My mom just had another baby!" The girl gasped, trying and failing to break the older girl's grip. "Every scrap of food has to go to the family now, or we'll starve!" The girl's eyes were open wide, resembling a hunted animal more than a human being, waiting for the reply.

"Fine." Tanita finally said, letting go and crossing her arms across her chest. "You're out of the deal. But if you tell _anyone_ about our little arrangement, you'll have a lot more than starvation to worry about." Finishing with one final shove, Tanita stalked away without looking back. She would have to find another food source before the reaping, or tonight's dinner would be uncomfortably small.

Tanita had been raised by a single mother in a tiny town on the outskirts of district nine, nearly fifty miles away from the justice building. Of course, in a district made up of grain fields as far as the eye can see, the town was about fifty miles away from everything else too. This made travel between the towns themselves almost nonexistent.

Ever since she was little, Tanita had been bigger than all the other girls in her town, and at first she hated it, wishing above all else that she could be small and petite like them, but that changed over time. She realized that the other girls were afraid of her, and that she could use that fear to her advantage. She started to bully the other girls into giving her portions of their own miserable food supplies, and even part of their monthly wages. Ever since she had started her little business she had never gone hungry again, and because of the added nutrition, her health and natural height increased, which only served to help her keep bullying the smaller, nearly starved girls. Several of the district members suspected what was going on, but they were too scared to face the moody, unpredictable girl. What if she came after their daughters next?

When she got back to her house, Tanita forced open the back door, accidentally knocking over a basket that one of her suppliers must have set inside the house while she was gone. Glancing down at the small, dry loaves of bread that had gone tumbling across the rough, wooden floor, Tanita walked over them and into a large side room. The room she had claimed for herself the day she realized she was stronger than her mother. Looking into the floor length mirror, she started to tease her long hair into a mass of curls, thinking through her wardrobe. She didn't usually wear dresses, but if she was ever going to, today was the day, she thought, deciding on a piece made of red silk that would make even the mayor's daughter jealous. It would definitely raise a few questions as to where she got the means to afford such a dress, but that didn't matter, there was nothing they could do, right?

* * *

Kayn walked down the long, winding staircase of his home in the Victor's Village, stopping for a moment to look out one of the gold-framed windows at all the empty houses. As the son of the only victor in the history of district nine, Kayn Topekh had grown up in the famed neighborhood completely isolated from every other child his age. He didn't regret this however; most of the other kids he'd met were simple, silly, and purposeless. Nobody had ever attributed these characteristics to him. His mother, Anna Topekh, had not been naïve enough to try to look past the rate at which the children of victors were selected in the reaping, and so had been training Kayn since he was six years old, making sure that if he were reaped, he would be ready.

Walking down the rest of the stairway, the boy shook the tiny water droplets left from his shower out of his dark hair and directed himself toward the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen. Stepping into the warm, yellow light, he sat in his usual place at the end of the overly large, mahogany table, his father sitting across from him at the other end, and his mother sitting at the shorter, more amiable man's right side. "Good morning." He said routinely, starting to make his way through his carefully planned, nutritionally efficient breakfast.

"Good morning," his mother said, looking up from her own breakfast and fixing him with her firm, unflinching gaze. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," the answer came around a mouthful of food. "It was okay, thanks for asking."

"Today's the day." She said, just like she had on this day ever since he had turned twelve.

"Yep." He agreed, pushing his plate away and looking up at his parents. "I have to ask you something." His parents looked at each other before his father finally spoke.

"Yes? What is it, son?"

"This is my last year in the reaping." Kayn said, a tone of finality in his voice. "I've never been as physically capable as I am now, and a tribute like me probably won't come from district nine for a long time." The silence was so thick; Kayn could have sliced it with the sickle he had been trained to wield with deadly precision.

"I don't understand," she said. "What are you asking?"

"If I'm not reaped this afternoon, should I volunteer?"

* * *

Tanita climbed up into one of the horse-drawn carts that were sent by the city officials to carry people from her village to the justice building. This particular cart was the only one fitted with a covering, keeping the sun off of its occupants; a desirable trait for the only form of transportation. Seeing that all the seats were predictably full, Tanita strutted over to a small girl, Cindy, who was sitting with her grandmother. "Hey, Cindy!" She said, perhaps a little too loudly and excitedly. "Can I have your seat? It would mean the world to me." The rest of the occupants of the cart shuffled awkwardly, gesturing for the girl to give up her seat, which she did.

"Of course! I'd be happy to." She said, practically jumping out of her seat and running to the next cart in line. Tanita sat down, smiling at everyone else as they eyed her tall frame draped in crimson silk. The dress looked even more out-of-place surrounded by the dull browns and grays of the other passengers than it had in the midst of Tanita's more exotic wardrobe.

"Well," she said, looking each of them in the eye, and ending with Cindy's grandmother. "Won't this be fun?" No one said a word until the elderly woman spit into Tanita's lap and spoke in her weak, gravelly voice.

"I hope it's you."

* * *

As Victor's Village was closer to the justice building than it was to anything else, Kayn walked to the square, people parting in front of him like he was a prince. He had never liked being around these people; they had always made him feel out-of-place. He couldn't help but feel guilty, as most of these people were starving, and he couldn't even imagine what being hungry was like. Every time he walked past he could see fear in their eyes, along with a small amount of hope. He was their best chance of getting more gifts from the Capitol after all, and the same thought was undoubtedly in all of their minds. Would he volunteer?

After the peacekeepers took his blood sample for the last time, Kayn stood by the other boys, thinking about all the other districts, how they were all doing the same thing. The mayor spoke for a moment before introducing the district's new escort. Her name was apparently Clementine Popper, here to replace the elderly man who had been district nine's escort since the beginning of the Games. Kayn couldn't help but notice that the handshake between the two was awkwardly prolonged. Did the mayor just hand something off to her? He moved a little closer, to see if she was holding anything, but she had already slipped her hand into her pocket and began to speak. "Happy Hunger Games!" She said nervously. "Though the Capitol _had_ planned a video presentation for all of you beautiful citizens, the screen was not prepared correctly," she paused and gave a small cough, obviously frustrated by this turn of events. "I guess we'll just move right on to the reaping." The poor woman, Kayn thought, her first Games and something had already gone wrong. "We'll do the men first!" She said, dancing over to the appropriate glass sphere. "Caiene Twopeech!" She said, her eyes searching for any stirring among the crowd. "Come on now, don't be shy!" Everyone gathered in the square was looking around, trying to find the elusive youth, when Kayn's mother stood from her place on the stage, taking the slip of paper from the clutches of the escort's long, pink fingernails.

"Kayn Topekh." She read into the microphone, giving the correct pronunciation of her son's name, and sitting back down. A small chuckle rippled through the entire crowd, as the escort's face turned fifty shades of read.

"Right," she said as Kayn took his place on stage. "Thank you." She looked like she was going to comment on the boy's muscular figure, or some give other complimentary statement, but she gave up and walked straight to the other ball. As she was fishing around for a name, Kayn watched her hand. The woman picked a name out and, on her way back to the microphone, slipped her hand into her pocket so briefly, Kayn wondered if he'd actually seen it. But he definitely had. She had switched the paper out for a similar one, the object that most likely had come from the hand of the mayor. "Tanita Humbrid!" She said confidently, not stumbling over a single syllable of the name.

Incredible, Kayn thought. She may seem clumsy, but there was something going on behind the scenes with district nine's escort. Not many people could fool that many people when their every move was being broadcast across the entire country. He was even more amazed, however, by how the mayor had rigged the reaping. How many times had he done it before, when Kayn hadn't thought to pay attention?

Tanita stepped onto the wooden stage, her footsteps echoing as she stomped over to stand by Kayn, shooting him a glare that could melt ice. "Ladies and gentleman, your tributes for the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games!" Ms. Popper yelled, pulling both of them to her sides, her nails digging into their arms.

There was a moment of silence before the cheering started. As the people looked at the tall, imposing figure of the terror that was Tanita, and the hard, battle-trained form of Kayn, a victor's legacy, they were all thinking the same thing.

This was going to be a _very_ good year for district nine.

* * *

Capitol City, Gamemakers HQ

Mercedes Virgo switched off the television, plunging the room into darkness as she did her best to rub the stiffness out of her fingers. Several empty pill bottles lay next to her notepad, which lay open beside her on the plush, purple couch; her exquisite, slanting handwriting covering every inch of paper. Three districts down, nine to go, she thought, rubbing her temples. It was exhausting, watching all the reapings back to back, but she was glad that she was doing it. Though her arena design was bound to distract the president for a little while, with a little help, this year's tributes could end up demanding a lot of attention themselves, which could only serve to help her cause. Virgo smiled. Even if she _did_ feel like she had aged ten years in the last two weeks, there was no doubt in her mind. This year, she would put on the greatest Games yet.

* * *

**A/N**

**A very good year indeed. At least, _I _think so.**** I really enjoyed writing this chapter! ... After the couple of days of writer's block that I was forced to suffer through. :P **

**Anyhoo, as I am writing this, I only need 4 more tributes. Take a gander at my profile to see the spots available, and to read a VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE about the continuation of this story. I will need YOUR help, even if you don't have a tribute in these Games!**

**P.S. This is the most committed to writing that I have ever been, so thanks to everyone who encourages me to update soon! I do my best!**


	6. Two Kinds of Revenge (D2)

Chapter 5: District 2 reaping: Two Kinds of Revenge

District 2

* * *

"Again." The bulky, intimidating man barked, tossing a javelin to the only other person in the target room, this year's chosen tribute, Athene Harbrick.

"That's enough," she said right back, dropping the javelin she had snatched out of the air without even thinking. "I know I can hit my target every time, we need to move on to something that will actually—" The girl was cut off by the sound of her trainer repeating his last command.

"Again." Rolling her eyes, Athene picked up the javelin from where it had been resting on the rough, gray mats and whipped her arm around, sending the javelin flying through the air until it struck the farthest target in the right shoulder. Not a kill shot necessarily, but judging by how far the projectile had sunk into the target itself, the small, child-sized dummy definitely wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. Pushing her chestnut-brown hair out of her eyes, the girl turned around and stalked out of the target room and back into the main training complex, several of its many occupants stopping their own training to watch her.

"Get back in here!" Her trainer yelled from the doorway. "We're not finished."

"Speak for yourself, Gregor," she yelled over her shoulder, continuing to make her way toward the spot of daylight let in by the big, steel doors that someone had propped open, most likely to let in a small breeze. "I was done a _long_ time ago." The rough hand of her trainer, who she had thought was still back at the target room, suddenly spun her around.

"Your sister said she was done too." He said menacingly. "Turns out she was right. How about that?" Athene's eyes widened, stunned by the trainer's insensitive comment about her deceased sister.

"You snake." She said taking a step closer to him, inside of his reach. "You could have saved her, but you didn't. Her defeat had nothing to do with a lack of preparation." Gregor took a step backward, raising his eyebrow at the aggressive stance of the much smaller girl.

"Yes, actually, it did." He replied. "She refused to train in unarmed combat, and that's why she's dead. Hit the mats." He gestured to a group of fighting mats that were currently occupied by another training duo. They left quickly, recognizing this year's tribute immediately. Once a tribute had been chosen for the Games in district two, an event that took place long before the reaping, they were entitled to certain privileges, including free reign of the training facility. Athene clenched her fists and padded over to her side of the mat, stretching her shoulders and waiting for her trainer to join her.

"I don't know what fighting _you_ accomplishes." She said, a little sulkily. "Shouldn't I be fighting other kids?"

"No, sweetheart," he said, taking off his jacket and revealing the muscles bulging through the thin fabric of his shirt. "That would be way too easy." The man lunged at Athene, who barely managed to dance away, jabbing him a couple of times in the side on her way to the space he had originally occupied. Turning around quickly, Gregor swung one arm out, causing her to duck right into his second arm, which connected with a smack and sent her sprawling across the mat. She pushed herself off the ground almost immediately though, dodging a kick meant for her ribs. "At least you can take a hit." Gregor said, smiling as they sparred a bit, back and forth, until they were both drenched in sweat. "Haven was too fragile, she never had a chance, and she was bigger than _you_." Spinning around one of her trainer's idle swings, Athene got up close to his face and slugged him in the nose, sending him reeling back into a defensive stance.

"Stop talking about my sister." She spat, jumping into a kick that Gregor was able to block with both of his arms, though he stumbled back again as a result.

"Don't tell me what to do." He panted, swiping a hand at the blood that was pouring from his nose. "And by the way, if you keep taking such a direct approach, you'll be defeated by any and every tribute that's bigger than you." Charging forward, the bigger man bull rushed Athene, brushing away her attempts at a defense and knocking her to the ground with a crushing blow to temple. "The thing is, you are weak, Athene. You're too arrogant to see it, but you're weak." He stooped down close to her ear and whispered, the smell of his sweat surrounding her as she tried to shake off his last blow. "Just like Haven was." Twisting over onto her back, Athene folded up her legs and kicked Gregor in the chest, flipping onto her feet and following her stumbling trainer until he stopped at the edge of the mat. The enraged girl immediately grappled onto his chest and clamped down on his neck with one hand, stabbing her thumb into his eye socket with the other. The man screamed and fell onto his back, landing with a thud on the unpadded cement. Athene knelt on his chest and punched him in the throat again and again.

"Say that again!" She screamed. "Say that again." She accentuated each word with another blow to Gregor's windpipe, leaving the man coughing and trying desperately to stop her. Finally she stopped, walking a few steps away and glaring at the other trainers as they eyed her fearfully before returning her gaze to her trainer.

"You—" he paused, another coughing fit racking his large frame as he crawled onto his hands and knees. "Are a winner." He had the nerve to laugh. Stepping forward, Athene swung her right foot viciously at the man's temple, sending him crashing back to the ground, unconscious at best.

"I know."

* * *

Slater O'Brien ran his hand through his bright red hair, watching from across the room as the girl walked away from the defeated form of the head director of training, and wondering what it was that the two had been talking about. He shuddered, she might not be the prettiest girl in the world, but when you can fight like he knew she could, you didn't have to be. Saying goodbye to Michael, a junior trainer who had rushed to his boss's side the moment Athene was gone, Slater started to make his way home. It took a little longer than usual, mostly because of the pretty girl with the sun-kissed hair he'd run into on the way there, but eventually he arrived at the small, dilapidated house. Noticing the general disrepair of the place, Slater grumbled his complaints under his breath before pushing open the front door. Hearing the door open, Slater's mother Jeanette dropped the piece of cloth she'd been dusting with and spun around quickly, a warm smile quickly replacing the momentary look of fear that had shown on her face. "Slater!" She exclaimed, rushing over and hugging him a little desperately. "Thank goodness you're here! I just got your suit from the tailor."

Slater knew why she had been afraid. It was because of Jonathan. After Slater's father's death six years earlier, Jeanette had married a man who turned out to be less of a protector, and more of a drunk. To make matters worse, he turned out to be abusive as well, tormenting Slater so much that the boy had been forced to move into the training center permanently. Shaking the bitter thoughts out his mind, Slater walked toward the table and picked up the freshly mended suit. "Thanks, mom." He said simply.

"You're welcome." She said. Going back to her cleaning.

"You have a bruise under your left eye." There was a pause before she let out a long breath and answered.

"I know." She turned around her eyes glued to the floor. She knew that Slater wanted her to leave the sorry excuse for a man, but she refused to do so. Jeanette and Jonathan had twins, Seth and Sebastian, and for some twisted reason Jonathan cared about them. She didn't want to separate them from their father, but she didn't want to leave them with him either, so she stayed, working far more than she should have to in order to support the family.

"I'm going to change." Slater said, walking into his old room and closing the door. His bed was gone, replaced by a small gaming table and a pile of empty liquor bottles. Only two more years, he thought, then he could run for tribute. If he could win the Games he would have enough influence to get rid of Jonathon for good. Changing into the light gray suit, Slater looked at himself in the mirror. Though his mother had just had the jacket resized because of his increasing bulk, he had almost grown out of it already. The training was definitely agreeing with his naturally broad figure. Looking up from the suit, Slater stared into his own mismatched eyes, one blue and one brown, quickly covering them up with a pair of sunglasses he always kept with him. His mismatched eyes were Jonathan's fault too. In a fit of rage, he'd punched Slater in the left eye with his heavy, gold ring, causing it to go blind for over a month. Thankfully the sight had come back, but the trauma had caused the eye's color to change to a dull brown. Slater hated it. To him it was a symbol of weakness, and he swore he could hear people laughing when he walked around without the glasses on.

Walking out of the room, Slater hugged his mom and left without talking to his half brothers, promising to meet them in the square for the reaping later that day, all the while repeating over and over in his head, two more years, two more years, two more years.

* * *

Athene jerked her hand away from the peacekeeper that had taken her blood sample, strutting passed the table and toward the group of other sixteen year-old girls, and catching several evil glares from the girls in their last year. She was the first tribute in district two to be chosen before they were eighteen, and they hated her for stealing their last chance at glory. Oh well, she thought, it wasn't her fault they were too weak. "You are _so _going to win." Ginger, a girl from Athene's year, whispered as the film played and the escort made his way passed the long line of past victors and towards center stage. "And you'll finally get to murder some of those barbaric outlier district brats." She whispered again, this time with a bitter vehemence that was echoed in Athene's facial expression.

"Exactly." She replied. District eight would be first, she thought, for Haven.

"Ladies first!" The little man in the sky blue suit said, shaking Athene out of her thoughts of revenge. Reading from the shining, gold envelope, the man shouted, "Penelope Stilton!" Athene immediately detached herself from her group, feeling Ginger's hands pushing her forward, and joining the girl on her journey up the steps and onto the stage in the middle of the large, stone amphitheater. "Who is this?" The escort asked, obviously a little bored with the predictable event that was the district two reaping.

"My name is Athene Harbrick, and I volunteer as tribute." She said, standing confidently, forcing the other girl to walk around her on her way back down the steps.

"Oh," the man said excitedly, though Athene could see he was rolling his eyes under his four-inch, glittering eyelashes. "How brave!" There was a smattering of applause before he opened the second envelope, shouting once again, "Slater O'Brien!"

* * *

Slater shook his head and looked up at the enormous screen raised above the stage, a screen that was currently broadcasting his own reaction to having his name called. What were the odds, he thought as he walked up the steps alongside the eighteen-year old boy chosen to take his place, that it would be _his _name? He'd never even considered what he would do if this happened. He still had two years, right? The other boy stepped forward, announcing that he would volunteer, but just as the escort was about to announce the pair Slater saw one of the screens show his family's reaction to his reaping, the bruise on his mother's face even more prominent than usual. Without thinking, Slater quickly mumbled. "Wait."

"What?" The escort asked after a moment's pause, obviously wondering why Slater was still on the stage.

"I decline." A murmur went through the crowd as his statement was broadcast over the entire district.

"What?" The man asked again, this time his face a mask of confusion.

"I decline this young man as my volunteer, _I _will be the tribute." Slater said, his conviction growing. He had to go _now_; his mother might not make it two more years. This was a God-given chance, and he was going to take it.

The other boy stomped off of the stage surrounded by peacekeepers, and the escort grabbed each of the two tribute's hands and lifted them high into the air. "District two! Your tributes!" The crowd erupted into the customary cheering, watching as Slater and Athene turned around and walked through the double doors located directly behind them, the doors that led straight into the justice building.

As the doors closed behind them, Slater took his glasses off, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting inside the building.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" Athene asked, looking him up and down, slightly disappointed.

"It's none of your business." Slater retorted, starting on his way down the overly furnished hallway.

"Well, freak," she said, following a few feet behind. "You'd better have something to contribute while we're in the arena, or you won't make it to the final eight. I'll make sure of it." Slater stopped, stiffening up and turning around to glare at the girl.

"You'd better be careful yourse— he stopped as Athene shut the door to her private room in his face, leaving him alone in the hallway.

She was a force to be reckoned with, that was for sure, and though they would pretend to be friends up until the games, she would no doubt be gunning for his death the moment they set foot in the arena.

Wonderful.

* * *

**N/A**

**Helloooo readers! I absolutely _loved_ writing this chapter. Hopefully I've done a good job representing the tributes that have been introduced so far, I do my best!**

**I have a few things to address here, first, how do you like the cover photo for my story? I drew it myself, I call it "Capitol Citizens in Varied Emotions- Shock" Let me know what you think of it, and if you think I should change it.**

**Second, I still have 4 empty tribute spots. I would prefer to have new people sending in tributes, so tell your friends about the 49th Hunger Games! **

**THIRD! THE MOST IMPORTANT! I neeeeeeeed everyone reading this to go to my profile and look for the "Very Important Message" about the Capitol Betting. The closer we get to the Games, the more I need you to get those bets in, okay? Thanks! You'll be glad you did!**

**Until the next chapter! -IceVeinsVillain**


	7. If The Shoe Fits -V

Chapter 6: If the Shoe Fits

* * *

Capitol City

* * *

"Virgo, you are needed in conference room four." Crest said, waiting a moment before taking another step into the dark room. "Ms. Virgo? Are you in here? You are needed in conference room four." Virgo's previously overlooked head rose from the couch cushions, prompting a small squeal from her surprised assistant.

"_Yes_, I'm in here," the disheveled woman said, standing up shakily. "And _yes_, I heard you the first time." Doing her best to smooth her hair back into something vaguely presentable, Virgo stepped over the piles of empty cups, empty pill bottles, and crumpled notebook pages, and made her way toward the door. "I need a moment to get ready, tell whoever it is that I'll see to them in a couple of hours or so."

"Virgo, it's Snow." Crest said, his voice trembling. "He's already been waiting for half an hour while we've been searching for you." A small gasp escaped from Virgo's lips and she hurried past Crest and out into the hallway, grabbing her purse on the way out.

"You should have found me sooner, you idiot!" She yelled over her shoulder half-heartedly. It was hard for her to stay angry going into such a sensitive situation. Stopping in front of a mirror just outside of the conference room, Virgo opened up her purse and started reapplying her makeup. "Have you heard _anything_ about what the President wants?" She asked, smearing on a liberal amount of fiery red lipstick.

"The other Gamemakers are worried that it may have something to do with the… instability of the arena," Crest said, hurrying to catch up to his boss before stopping to stand anxiously next to the large double doors that led into the conference room. "But there is no evidence that he's discovered anything yet."

"Okay," Virgo said, reassuring herself as she put the final touches on her aqua blue eye shadow. "I'm sure it's _fine_. Everything's _fine_." Smiling at Crest, she opened the door and walked into the cavernous room, the sound of her high-heeled shoes beating out a staccato rhythm on the expensive obsidian floor, and sending her heart racing as a result. The sound echoed ominously throughout the entire room, shattering the silence. Virgo made a note to carpet all the conference rooms in the future.

That is, if she had a future.

Along both sides of the long, brightly polished mahogany table sat the other Gamemakers, resplendent in a veritable riot of color. The various pinks, greens, blues, and oranges made the group of her coworkers look like a flock of birds, their quick, nervous movements adding to the effect. "Good afternoon, Mercedes." President Snow said as Virgo took the seat opposite his place at the head of the table. "So good of you to join us."

"Please, forgive me, Mr. President." She said, crossing her legs and smiling, doing her best to appear confident and relaxed. "I was documenting a few of the reapings, and jotting down a few notes. How can I help you?" I'm dead, she thought. I'm dead, and there's nothing I can do about it.

"Well," Snow said, speaking slowly and deliberately. "Some new information has come to light about your arena, and I needed to ask you all a few questions in person." A large man in a garish fuchsia suit, Paris Govermann was his name, wiped the sweat from his face with his small pocket kerchief before speaking.

"I hope the arena has in no way been found lacking, Mr. President." The other gamemaker's faces all turned red as they held their breath, waiting for the answer.

"The arena is perfection to the core." Snow began, forcing a quickly stifled giggle of both relief and amazement from the small woman sitting directly to his right. After a pause during which Snow raised an eyebrow questioningly and all the gamemakers nearly fainted, Snow continued. "However, it's a lacking a sadly necessary theatrical element."

"We discussed this in the initial phase," Virgo said, a little confused, though she was relieved as well. "I'm sure it will be exciting enough to keep the people's attention."

"Yes," he said, the room finally relaxing as they realized this was just a routine meeting. "It will be _exciting_, but the masses do not see with the trained eye of a gamemaker, do they? One of Hammond Sharp's greatest faults was his inability to bring his brilliant details to light. They all simply faded into the background." At the name of their recently deceased boss, many of the gamemakers studiously avoided looking in Virgo's general direction.

"Thank you for the insight, Mr. President." Virgo said, genuinely thankful that he seemed to be set on making her Games successful. "I'll take a team over to the arena straight away and see what I can think up. Was there anything else you wanted to speak about?" Snow nodded and held up a neat stack of papers. Crest immediately left Virgo's side and took the papers, walking quickly back and setting them in front of the Head Gamemaker.

"Here is some background information on the tributes that have been reaped so far." Snow said, his brow creasing as he chose his words with the utmost care. "This is information that will _not_ be announced during the televised reaping, and though I don't normally feel the need to pass it on to the esteemed gamemakers," he nodded to both sides of the table, much to the delight of those seated there. "This year's batch has forced my hand." Virgo looked down at the papers, reading the brief introduction at the top.

"You really think this will affect the Games?" She asked, turning the pages quickly and scanning their contents.

"Not enough to make you worried." Snow said as he stood up, prompting the gamemakers to do the same. "However, it _is _enough to generate precautionary actions." Every pair of eyes watched President Snow walk the entire length of the room, each one only looking away when the door swung shut behind him.

* * *

A crowd of workers swarmed around Virgo and one of the gamemakers she had chosen to help bear the load of the arena's infinite details, Lattice Grand. "This had better be the last time I set foot here." Virgo said, watching the worker's set up the structures she had just confirmed with the President.

"Oh, I'm _sure_ it _will_ be, darling." Lattice said as she looked down with a slightly disgusted look on her face, no doubt wishing she could float above the sand instead of sinking her exquisite heels down into it with every step. "Follow me." The two women walked a ways away from the larger group before stopping in front of a hole in the ground with a ladder poking up from somewhere below. "This will be the mechanic's hole." Lattice said, unnecessarily pointing one of her long bedazzled claws toward the pit. "Throughout the Games we will support a team of five men and women who have direct lines to the most… fragile points in the arena."

"Well, I hope it's going to be more concealed than this!" Virgo said, exasperated. "Or we will be supporting a _dead_ team of mechanics, Lattice!"

"Don't worry, dear," Lattice said, laughing away the tension and placing a hand on Virgo's shoulder. "It will be completely concealed. _Covered_ even. There's no chance the little brats will discover the little oasis."

"Will be? _Will _be?" Virgo said, shaking off Lattice's arm and striding to the other side of the hole. "It should have been _concealed_ yesterday!"

"Calm down, Virgo." Lattice said, dropping the false charade of relaxation and ease. "Besides, they still have an entire week of training before they enter the arena. We have plenty of time." A violent shudder went through the Head Gamemaker, accompanied by a deep sigh.

"You are right, of course." Virgo said, squaring her shoulders and cocking her head slightly to the right, posing as if the cameras set in the surrounding trees were functioning already. "Everything is _fine_." Virgo reached into her purse, emptying a small bottle of its contents into her hand, and went to toss the pills into her mouth. The familiar motion was interrupted by Lattice, who had quickly made her way back to her friend's side.

"Now, now, that's not necessary, is it?" She said, shaking Virgo's arm until all the pills had fallen into the sand.

"Oh, stop." Virgo said, annoyed. "I'm _fine_."

"No, _you _stop." Lattice said, her voice falling to a harsh whisper. "You are _killing_ yourself, and you are _lying_ to yourself if you think people haven't noticed." Dropping her friend's arm, the woman grinned, an over exaggerated mask of joy that didn't reach her eyes. Virgo forced a smile back before turning around and stomping back to the group of workers that were just now finishing structures that had only been an idea a few hours ago.

"Okay, people, this looks great!" Virgo yelled, each group halting their tasks and turning to listen. "Groups one and two need to pack up and move to sector C, and group three needs finish up here and get to sector X as soon as possible. These will be the last touchups before the start of the Games, I trust you know what that means, right?" The groups started to act on her instructions, and Virgo walked quickly to the hovercraft waiting to take her back to the Capitol. Just before boarding, Virgo turned around and lifted a hand to shade her eyes, watching the progress of Lattice, who was making her way toward the craft as well.

"Wait! Wait for me!" She called, waving her hand wildly in the air, a motion that caused her to immediately crash to the ground in a pile of salmon pink silk and corkscrew curls. A laugh escaped from Virgo's lips, something that hadn't happened in a while.

"You were right," she called to Lattice, who paused in the midst of clumsily trying to stand back up. "The shoes pull the entire outfit together!"

"Shut up!"

* * *

Virgo left for her home as soon as their transportation landed in the Capitol, saying goodbye to Lattice and speeding off in her new luxury car; a gift from the President. Upon her arrival, she charged up the stairs to her bedroom, ignoring the greetings of her many servants. Once she was on the other side of the large, golden doors, she grabbed both of them with shaking hands and slammed them shut, the sound echoing through her estate. Virgo slid down the length of the firm, cold doors until she was sitting on the floor, facing her bed. Slipping her shoes off of her feet she threw them across the room, shattering a tall, multicolored glass lamp that had previously occupied her bedside table. Ripping off the thin, knee-high socks she had worn underneath the horrid shoes, Virgo started to rub her sore and bleeding feet, sobs racking her small, skinny figure. Black rivers of mascara poured down her face, staining the spring green dress she had worn on her visit to the arena. She tried to be confident, she tried to work hard, to throw herself into her work, but it didn't change what she was doing.

As a junior gamemaker, she had been told what to do, and she had even thought it was fun! Who else got to play god and create things that couldn't exist in a natural world? It was different as the Head Gamemaker though. Bone jarringly different. Being in the center of the arena's dirty little secrets, devising new and creative ways to kill _children_, all the things that she used to turn a blind eye to were now on her plate, impossible to ignore. Virgo couldn't help but wonder, was she the only one? Was she the only gamemaker who came home and took impossibly long showers, trying to scrub away the wretched feeling of being a cold blooded murderer?

Standing slowly, Virgo crawled into her bed, still wearing the ruined dress. She felt so dead inside, and the worst part was that no one could know. When she woke up tomorrow morning she would get dressed, worry about what everyone else would think about how she looked, and then spend almost an entire month smiling at every bloodthirsty comment that came from the mouths of those vipers. People would congratulate her, they would idolize her, and hopefully she would be able to do more than stare in horrid fascination at the macabre work of her own hands.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello readers! I realized that the endless reapings were probably getting as predictable/boring for you as they were for me, so I decided to shake things up a bit. Just a little taste of Virgo's psychological development. ;) I'll get back to the reapings after this though.**

**Also, as I am writing this, Kayn Topekh is on top of the Capitol charts with an impressive average of 4.7 out of 5. If you think this is unfair, and that YOUR favorite deserves the top spot, don't just stand there, go vote! (Rules are posted on my profile)**

**Thanks, and May the Odds Be Ever In Your Favor!**

**-IVV**


	8. Competitive Edge (D3)

Chapter 7: District 3 Reaping: **Competitive Edge**

* * *

District 3

* * *

Cable Kelvin sat unmoving on the morning of the reaping, his sullen gray eyes staring at the bare wall opposite his bed. At age fifteen, this would be Cable's fourth reaping, but even though he should have been used to the routine by now, he still got as nervous as his very first time. Because of the advanced work done in district three the education system was the most sophisticated of all the districts. Most of the kids that went through the system came out geniuses, full of potential as well as great ideas that could improve the quality of life in all of Panem, not just the Capitol. But two of those kids, even though they have the same potential for greatness, were taken and slaughtered each year. Cable couldn't shake the images of any of the tributes that had been chosen in recent years, their reapings, their interviews, and finally their deaths. He couldn't help but wonder why the girl who had found a way to reduce the coal mine death rate to almost nothing had been killed, her work lost, while he had survived. So far, Cable wasn't feeling exactly like the greatest boon to society, struggling to pass his classes as opposed to going above and beyond like most of his classmates. So was the way of Games, though, there was no telling who or what would be taken from the world each year. Standing up, Cable walked out of his door and down the hallway, passing his sister's room on the way. "Good morning." He said in his characteristically emotionless voice, causing her to pull herself out of the thick, dusty volume entitled "_What we can learn from Ancient Engineering_."

"Good morning, Cable." Alta said, looking at him through the thick black frames that matched their mother's exactly.

"It's your last year," Cable said, still standing in the hallway. "You excited?"

"Supposing you meant to ask '_are_ you excited,'" she teased, smiling and placing a bookmark in her book before closing it with a loud thud. "Yes, I am excited. I can finally move to the Graduates Academy and throw myself into my work." She said this with utter joy and a conviction that Cable envied. Alta knew exactly what she was going to do with her life, how long it would take to get to that point, and what path was the surest route. She was the typical Kelvin child, following a pattern that was nearly identical to that of their parents and their eldest son, Huxley. "Are you nervous?" Alta asked, tilting her chin down slightly, as she always did when asking a question.

"Well, with my luck I'll be the one getting reaped this year, so yeah, I'm nervous." Cable answered sarcastically, slumping his shoulders exaggeratedly and turning to continue down the hallway.

"Oh stop," Alta said, following him out the door and down a small flight of steps that led through the parlor and into the kitchen. "Have a positive attitude. All of life is before you, just waiting for you with open arms! Three years after this one, and you'll be ready to jump in." Typical Alta, Cable thought, no matter what situation you were in, or how you felt about it, she had a quirky little saying meant to cheer you up and set you on the right path forward. He was thankful for this though, as it usually worked.

The two siblings walked into the kitchen, not surprised to see their parents sitting at either end of the family table, their different projects spread out before them, and their hands held tightly in the other's on top of the pile of graphs, machine parts, and calculations. That was how their parents preferred to work, together, and in a comfortable environment. Because of the recent success of the pair, and the promotions that had followed, they were now allowed to work at home whenever they wanted to. "—which doesn't work because of the fusion generator that has to pass over this whole ten by ten section." Dayton Kelvin, the kids' father, was saying disappointedly. "That thing disintegrates anything pliable enough to do the job, and no combination of durability and pliability makes any sense mathematically. I just don't know what I'm going to do." Mr. Kelvin was known for talking his way through problems, whether it was factory improvement, or what kind of sandwich he should make himself for lunch. This behavior was the polar opposite of his wife's. Tesla Kelvin, who rarely talked at all, only spoke up when she had thought through each situation carefully, so when she did speak, people listened.

"Good morning!" Alta said cheerfully, snapping both of the senior Kelvins out of their workplace thought processes. "What are you two working on today?" Looking over her mother's shoulder, Alta seemed to soak up all the information like a sponge, obviously making some kind of sense out of the varied scribbling that dominated most of the pages displayed on the table.

"Good morning," Mr. Kelvin answered, smiling at his daughter with a look of genuine pride. "It's nothing interesting, I'm sure it would bore you, it's just a more efficient way for factory five to… how should I say it… go about it's business. It's been falling behind in production, and several repairmen were called away to the Capitol before they could fix it. I thought this created a perfect opportunity to improve the inner workings. I'm puzzling out how to make it more space efficient, of course, meaning smaller. Does that make any sense?"

"Yes, dad." Alta sighed. Everything their father said made perfect sense; otherwise he wouldn't have said it. Alta continued. "Just so you all know, I'll be meeting up with you all at the reaping." Mrs. Kelvin raised her eyebrows at this, a questioning look that she communicated often. "I have an opportunity to visit the ElectroBlix genetics lab." Alta said excitedly. ElectroBlix was the most successful company in district three; mostly due to it's continued work with the Gamemakers in the Capitol.

"Oh, great." Cable said sarcastically. "I'll finally get a day to myself so I can hang out with all my close friends." The fifteen year old wasn't as talkative as his sister, which, coupled with the fact that he couldn't keep up with most of the kids at school, meant that his friend list was sadly lacking.

"That's fine, honey." Mrs. Kelvin said to Alta, reaching over to her husband's side of the table and scratching a long, complicated equation onto the paper in front of him before continuing. "And Cable, your father and I decided to get everyone new dress clothes this year, so would you mind coming with me so I can get you fitted?"

"Tesla, I _love_ you!" Mr. Kelvin said, jumping out of his seat, the equation held firmly in one hand, his wife's hand still clasped in the other. "Have I ever told you that you are the _smartest_ woman in all of creation?" Lifting her out of her seat, he proceeded to take her waist and dance with her across the kitchen, much to her delight.

"Oh, Dayton, stop." She said, laughing. "Cable?"

"Yeah, I guess I'll go." The boy said, answering the unspoken question before leaving his parents to their own devices. At least it was something he could do that didn't necessitate a sky high IQ.

* * *

The time slot for the district three reaping was in the evening. This made perfect sense as it was one of the only districts that had an impressive nighttime light display, the large spotlights reflecting fabulously off of the shining glass panes that covered a large percentage of the buildings. While this meant that the reaping turned into more of a social event than it was in the other districts, it also meant that the most prestigious schools were still in session during the day.

After an entire day of honors classes, Scarlette Blake and her friend Willa Skipper walked to the latter's house, the two seventeen year-old's conversation changing from bitter complaints about the school day to their excitement over the coming nightlife. "Scar, your mom will _kill _you." Willa gasped, staring wide-eyed at her friend.

"I'm hoping that seeing me in the dress will give her a heart attack before she can get her hands on me." Scar said, a mischievous grin gracing her lips. She usually kept up the good girl act whenever her mother was at home, but this year was going to be very different. "Besides," she continued. "She has no say in what I wear or how I act. It's not like she raised me."

"Mm," Scar's friend acknowledged. "That's true."

Spencer Blake, Scarlette's mother, had quickly climbed the corporate ladder at ElectroBlix, taking up a position based in the Capitol as soon as the opportunity was given to her. While she didn't see her kids very often, the woman still did her best to rule their lives with an iron fist, insisting that they take the hardest classes and get the best grades. Scar's father, Duke Blake, held a far less glamorous job, that of an electrical repairman. This made him absent for the most part as well, leaving all four kids to grow up on their own. Scar had tried to be the mother for her three little siblings for several years, helping with their school and picking out their clothes, but when she turned fourteen she met Willa and everything changed. Her newfound friend introduced her to a lifestyle free of the never-ending responsibility, and she dived right in, never looking back. Being alone had helped her to grow up fast, she thought, and hopefully it would do the same for her siblings. As a result of her alienation from the rest of the family, Scar spent more time at the Skipper house, an enormous building that took up three housing plots, much to the envy of the neighbors.

The two girls approached the mansion, their footsteps getting quicker as they headed straight for Willa's dressing room. When they arrived in the comfy, fashionably antique room, they immediately began stripping off the mandatory, and universally hated school uniforms. "The sun's already going down Scar," Willa said excitedly as they undressed, the fiery sunset streaming through the window and painting her golden hair with several shades of orange. "We'd better hurry up." Both girls quickly walked into Willa's closet, pulling previously chosen dresses off of their hangers and helping each other into them. Scar stood in front of the floor length mirror first, her eyes scanning approvingly up and down the length of the sparkling black dress; a scandalously short number that hugged her curves tightly and left little to the imagination when it came to her long legs.

"You were right," she said over her shoulder, twisting her hips provocatively. "I look amazing in this."

"I told you!" Willa exclaimed. "You're dressed to kill, honey, and there isn't a _single_ man coming away from this party unscathed." Both girls laughed, switching places and assessing the other's dress. Willa's hair practically glowed against the thickly layered gauzy dress she had on, the blue, almost see-through material showing skin in all the right places.

"You're not looking too bad yourself, sweetie." Scar whispered in a low, husky voice. The end of her sentence caused her voice to crack, forcing the girls to burst into laughter, halting their cosmetic preparations for several minutes.

"Don't every talk like that again, creep." Willa said jokingly, elbowing her friend in the shoulder just as the sun disappeared completely from the sky. The lights in the room switched on automatically, signaling the dwindling time before the party started. The two girls looked at each other with wide eyes before frantically crowding the vanity, brushing on thick layers of makeup and painting their lips a bright, luscious red, all with efficient, practiced hands.

After three years of infiltrating the dance clubs in district three, and making themselves look older as a necessity, the girls were good at what they did. When the transformation was complete, the two gorgeous young women who stepped out of the house were barely recognizable when compared to the intelligent, quiet schoolgirls that had walked into it just an hour ago. The girls locked arms, making their way toward the bright lights and pulsing music outside of the justice building, smiling at every whistle and catcall aimed at them along the way.

* * *

Cable walked through the crowds of partygoers and signed in at the peacekeeper table, flinching as they took his blood, and keeping his head down when they growled for him to keep moving. Moving over to the group of kids that weren't dancing, Cable put his hands over his ears, warding off a headache that was being pounded into his head by the incessant rhythm of the music. "They're such morons!" A tall boy shouted at him over the noise. He looked familiar, but Cable couldn't recall his name, so he just nodded as the boy continued. "Celebrating, just because the Capitol wants them to. It's idiotic!"

The music finally started winding down, Cable catching a glimpse of Alta standing still, impatiently waiting for the end of the spectacle. When she caught his eye she mouthed, "This is it!" her excitement showing plainly on her face.

"Whoa!" the district escort, Pearlie Portia, exclaimed into the microphone, her drink still in her hand. "This _has_ been quite a party!" Half of the district cheered, raising their own glasses into the air, while the other half stayed silent, glaring at their neighbors. "Sadly, the mayor had little _too_ much to drink," Pearlie giggled, accidentally sloshing her own beverage onto the shiny, metallic floor of the stage. "So _I_ will read the customary speech in his absence." While the speech was usually boring and long, not even remotely keeping the attention of even the most studious in the crowd, this year was different. With Pearlie stumbling through the speech, reading pages out of order, garbling words together, and sometimes even inventing portions to help the speech make the tiniest amount of sense, the entire crowd was roaring with pleasure by the time the tipsy escort was done. "What a wonderful speech!" She said, indicating that it was indeed over with. "Now, let us watch a film sent all the way from the… Capitol!" The lights on stage faded to black just as the drunken woman slipped in the puddle she had created earlier, falling face first into the crowd with a comical screech.

Once the film was over, the puddle of alcohol had been dealt with, and Pearlie had successfully made it back to the stage, the crowd had finally started to quiet down. "Well," she said, one hand shielding her eyes from the spotlights. "The men shall lead, as is the way of things." Walking over to the glass bowl barefooted, her monumentally high heels having been deemed too "dangerous" by the crew filming the reaping, Pearlie reached in and pulled out the small slip of paper. Cable couldn't help but notice how odd it was, that the tiny, frail object held the fate of a living, breathing human being. A soul's existence decided by something so easily destroyed. "Cable Kelvin!" Pearlie shouted.

Of course it's me, Cable thought, the world around him becoming a blur as he made his way to the escort's side. Maybe fate had been kind this year, choosing possibly the only boy within earshot that didn't have a purpose. District three tributes only ever won by their wits, and he didn't have any. At least the loss wouldn't be as great this year. Blinking back the tears of his final defeat, Cable stood up straight, his thoughts ranging from the continued success his family would undoubtedly have without him, to his less than one percent chance of ever seeing the sun rise on district three ever again.

* * *

Draining her third glass of the evening, Scar watched the small, unassuming boy standing perfectly still, ignoring the many slurred conversational prompts given by Pearlie Portia. "I hate this part." She said frankly, Willa turning to listen. "I'd be fine in district two, where people love the Games, but the kids that get picked here. They always seem so out of place." Willa nodded and filled up Scar's glass, putting her arm around her friend.

"Don't worry," Willa said, running her hands through her friend's hair. "In a couple years we won't have to come if you don't want to." Scar nodded and leaned her head against Willa's shoulder, watching as the escort made her way to the other glass bowl.

"Let's see who gets to join this… brave young man!" Pearlie said, a loud, decidedly unfeminine belch escaping from her lips. Again, she reached down into the pile of names and drew one out, this time yelling, "Scarlette Blake!"

The glass in Scarlette's hand fell to the ground, shattering into a million, glittering pieces. Not _me_, she thought. She'd been avoiding the concept of death since she was fourteen, living life to the fullest with no regrets. This life, this perfect life that she had made for herself was coming to a crashing halt and there was nothing she could do about it. Or was there? Hugging Willa briefly, Scar pushed away and strode through the crowd. Waltzing up onto the stage and strutting its length like a Capitol model, her neck and hands glittering with diamonds, Scar aimed a seductive kiss at the camera before standing next to Pearlie, the Capitol-born woman standing almost a head shorter with the absence of her shoes. The escort immediately frowned. Though she had done everything she could to look her best this evening, standing there with her blue wig and no shoes on, she looked like an evil hag next to the stunning form of the younger girl. "Well, district three," the escort said, turning to face the camera with a tired look on her face. "Here are your tributes for the forty ninth annual hunger games." There was a smattering of applause, the crowd amazed and intrigued by the two completely opposite personas representing them in this year's games.

* * *

Cable shook the thought of the girl who had stood next to him a moment ago out of his mind, spinning away from the window when the door to his room opened, admitting his family. Enveloping him in a hug, Cable felt their tears falling onto his hair, his face, and his hands. Nobody said anything, even his father didn't speak a word, the family just stood, enveloped in each other's arms, waiting for the inevitable knock from the peacekeepers. When the sound finally came, Tesla cried, "My baby!" the outburst cut off as she choked on another batch of tears. That single out-of-character reaction from his mother made Cable start to cry in earnest for the first time, watching the door close on his family. Just seconds later he was surprised to find the door opening again, this time admitting just his sister, Alta. "Stop crying." She said, lifting his chin up. "You can't give up before you even get on the train." Sitting him down in one of the thickly cushioned chairs, and gesturing for him to do the same, Alta pulled a stack of papers out from underneath her shirt. "Here, take these." Cable took the papers, confused.

"What are they?" He asked.

"It's DNA reports," she said, pointing to the first section of the top page. "Each one has descriptions of what kinds of behavior each strain generates, as well as some physical traits too."

"Why?" Cable asked again, flustered by his sisters quick explanations.

"I stole them from ElectroBlix." She admitted, her eyes falling for a moment. "They are going to be used in this years Games, so if you study them you'll know what to expect from the mutts in the arena, understand?"

"Yeah, I think so…" Cable said, looking into his sister's eyes in disbelief.

"No, you can't just _think_ anymore, Cable." His sister practically yelled. "You have to _know_. Now, if you look at page five you'll see that all the different strains include a certain physical trait. Gills."

"Gills? I don't…"

"Water, Cable, water!" Alta yelled. "Learn how to swim, and study these pages as thoroughly as you can, promise me you'll do that okay?" The peacekeepers knocked, bursting into the room and pushing Alta toward the door. "Knowledge is power, Cable," she said desperately, her entire body communicating the importance of her words. "You have all the knowledge you need!" The door closed for the last time, leaving Cable alone holding his best chance at winning the Games.

* * *

After a brief teary goodbye from her father and her little siblings, Scar waited until her mother arrived. Sitting down and crossing her arms defiantly when she finally did. "What do _you _want?" Scar snapped, causing her mother to roll her eyes before sitting down herself.

"Oh, stop it." She said sharply. "You brought this on yourself, you little slut." Scar's eyes widened, the words having a similar effect to that of a slap in the face. "You thought you could just tear up the town for _three years_ and you'd keep getting your way?" A wicked laugh escaped from Mrs. Blake's mouth before her voice returned to its former hostility. "This was bound to happen sooner or later. Now the whole world will know about your little _escapades_, which will drag the family name, _my_ name through the mud."

"Why did you even come here?" Scar yelled, standing up and looking down at her mother.

"I came to tell you that you had better win." The cruel woman said, standing up herself. "You had better find some way to make people forget what you are, or I will." Scar walked away from her mother and banged on the door.

"Help!" She screamed, staring daggers at her mother. "Get her out of here!" Peacekeepers stormed into the room, one shielding Scar from her mother, and the other two wrenching the older woman off of her feet and dragging her out of the room, her screams echoing off the walls of the hallway. As soon as she was alone, Scar sat back down. If she came back a victor her mother would never talk to her like that again, Scar would be untouchable.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello all! I've been waiting to write this chapter for a while, mostly because I LOVE these tributes! Thanks to their creators, ATallTale and FreeToRun, they were/are/will be a joy to write!**

**We're almost halfway through the reapings! I'm really clicking along, so I'll be done in no time. One problem though... I still need two more tributes! Aah! Male tributes from 10 and 11. Tell your friends, you want the story to go on, right?!**

**A note on the Betting (I have to talk about this every time, I know, I'm completely obsessed.) If you give me a partial number (4.2, 1.9, etc.) I will be rounding up. SO if you send in a 1.5 it's going to be counted as a 2. Now you know.**

**One last thing (I know, this is long, I'm SORRY) the reason I continue writing is because of you guys, the readers! Your reviews and PMs have really encouraged me in my work so far, so thank you so much! Please, continue letting me know what you think, I really do want to know!**

**-IVV**


	9. Interrupted (D12)

Chapter 8: District 12 Reaping: Interrupted

* * *

District 12

* * *

Marsh Melonee stood next to his friends, trying to stifle his excited breath as he peaked through the thin rails of the rough, wooden banister. "Stop shuffling your feet!" Fennel whispered critically. He was the oldest of the group, and as such he was accustomed to giving orders. "She'll hear you and look up!" A small giggle escaped from Lichen's mouth, a sound that was quickly smothered by the other three boys. Heavy footsteps on the front porch announced the approach of their target, the woman known to them as Mother Dearest.

Mother Dearest wasn't the boys' real mother. The small, graying woman ran the orphanage that housed the four boys, and all the other orphans in district twelve. Mother Dearest's own mother, the wife of a wealthy shop owner, had started the "_Home for the Homeless_" after the rebellion, leaving her considerable wealth tied to the charity and forcing her daughter to promise that she would stay and run the place. After ten years of doing so, her mother's money finally started to run out, and Mother Dearest had scratched the word "_Children_" on the faded sign, accepting only orphans. It had been twenty-five years since then, and though the amount of donations was minimal at best, she continued to run the orphanage, always finding something to feed to the orphans under her care. It wasn't until the day that Marsh and his friends had moved in that she started talking about retirement.

With Marsh and Fennel covering Lichen's mouth, all four boys watched Mother Dearest walk toward the front door, her bag of sad, wilting groceries held tightly in her wrinkled hands. Balancing the bag on her hip for a moment, Mother Dearest reached a hand out and pushed on the door that was already oddly ajar, stepping inside the house only to be met by a pail full of ice-cold creek water that fell from above. There was no containing Lichen now; the small, grey-eyed boy fell onto his back and burst into laughter, the sound ringing throughout the otherwise silent house. "I know you're up the there, boys!" The woman screamed, marching up the stairs at a slow but steady pace. Marsh was on his feet first, running toward the room he shared with Fennel, Lichen, and the last member of their gang, Bryony. When all the boys had made it into the room, the door was slammed shut and they all huddled in a corner of the room, Fennel pulling a large, dirty sock out of a hole in the rough, uneven boards that made up the floor of the entire orphanage. Closing off the end of the sock with his fist, Fennel shook the sock, reaching in and pulling out a small, worn piece of paper.

"Marsh!" Fennel read quickly, stuffing the paper back in the sock and returning it to its hiding place. All the other boys laughed with relief, throwing themselves onto their beds as Marsh went and stood in front of the door to their room, just as it opened to reveal a dripping wet and furious Mother Dearest. Before she could even open her mouth, Marsh was already speaking, his big, dark eyes staring sadly into hers.

"I'm sorry, Mother Dearest," he said dramatically, rocking from the tip of his toes to the heels of his feet, back and forth. "It was I. I am the foul being who placed the bucket above the door. You may do what you will with me, but please don't hurt my friends, they were here, sitting politely all the while." While the speech was eloquent enough, Mother Dearest wasn't buying it.

"You foul brutes!" She yelled, pointing her bony hand at Marsh before directing at the others. "All of you! I have half a mind to chop you up and use _you _to feed the rest of us." The boys exchanged glances knowingly, that was a threat Mother Dearest was fond of. "Now all of you, get your nice clothes on, we're going to the reaping." She clutched Marsh's shoulders tightly, causing the thirteen year-old to wince. "And if there's _any _funny business, I'll be volunteering _you_ for the Games."

* * *

"I'm going to head home, mom, I need to get ready." The soft, tentative voice was lost in the confusion of the busy shop, Serenity Gilbert's mother not even noticing the small girl slip out the back door. That was normal though, the girl barely let her voice rise above a whisper. As she made her way through the light rain, Serenity, or Reina as she was more commonly known, kept her head down, watching her small feet make their tiny impressions on the softened ground. If she was lucky, no one would see her and she would be able to slip unnoticed into the warm, familiar safety of her home.

"Reina!" The sound of her name being yelled from across the road caused the girl to flinch, stopping her in her tracks, and forcing her to wait for whoever had called her name. "Oh, don't be scared." A tall, blonde girl sneered, stepping close to Reina and looking down at her. "I just wanted to see something." Reina stood perfectly still, her light hazel eyes still aimed at the ground, her auburn hair covering the majority of her face. Why couldn't the girl leave her alone? "Hannah! Come here! It's Reina!" The girl called out, quickly joined by her friend. "I was just going to see if what Molly said was true."

"Well? Let's see." Hannah said, mirroring the cruel smile that curled on her friends lips. Reaching down, Hannah grabbed Reina's chin and forced her face upward, flipping her hair away from her face and revealing the angry red birth mark she tried to hide as much as possible.

"Ew, gross." The blonde girl said, stepping away from Reina like she had a contagious disease. "Looks like _somebody_ fell on their face one too many times as a kid." She laughed, the sound echoed in her friend, Hannah.

"Hey, Haley." A young man said, walking quickly toward the scene. "Why don't you stop ruining everyone's lives and go back to ruining your dad's bread." Grabbing Reina gently by the shoulders, the boy guided her to a place slightly behind him, putting himself between her and the offensive girls.

"Shut up, Dimitri." Haley said, her joy at tormenting Reina fading. "The bread's not ruined, it's called pita bread."

"Pita, pita, pita." Dimitri said mockingly. "I bet you'd name your kids Pita if you had any."

"Maybe I will." Haley, sticking her tongue out at the boy before turning around and walking away, her friend not far behind. As soon as the girls were out of earshot, Dimitri turn around and bent down, looking Reina in the eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his worried look making the girl feel better than words ever could.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I guess I'll be okay."

After that, Dimitri walked her home, though not a word was said between the two. The silence between them had never been awkward, just comfortable. When they arrived at Reina's house she practically skipped up the stairs. Quickly unlocking the door, cracking it open, and slipping into the revealed sliver of the darkened house, Reina offered Dimitri a quick thank you before closing it again, leaving him standing in the rain.

* * *

Marsh stepped heavily into a puddle; the resulting splash covering his friends' neatly laundered and mostly patched "reaping pants," as well as his own, in the mud created by the incessant rain. All the inhabitants of the Home marched by twos into the square, each one rubbing the small patch of broken skin on their finger. Mother Dearest stopped outside of the children's section, leaving each of the orphans to find their own age group. Marsh, Lichen, and Bryony all stayed together in the group of thirteen year olds, watching Fennel walk toward the group just ahead of theirs. The boys glanced at each other nervously. Each of the orphans was required to take out tesserae to feed themselves and the other children in the orphanage, whether they needed to or not. This made it more than likely that one of them would get picked as tribute each year. Well, more likely than the shop owner's kids, but not as likely as the kids from the Seam. Those families relied on the tesserae so heavily that their names were usually in the bowl three times more than everyone else's.

"Well, well," the district escort said, looking out at the stone-like expressions of the people standing in the rain. "It's lovely to see your smiling faces again!" Mimi Bauble was completely sheltered of course, standing underneath a large, hastily built structure that had been erected to keep the rain off of the stage. "Thank you for coming!" She said conversationally, as if the people would answer. "Please direct your eyes and ears to the screens for a message from the Capitol." Though most of the inhabitants of twelve rolled their eyes and ignored the video, Marsh stood enthralled. It was incredible what the Capitol was capable of, he thought, watching the explosions and other effects on the screen. Who knew what other wonders they housed, kept hidden from the districts. Eventually the video ended and the wonder faded, Marsh's initial reaction to the reaping returning. He smiled at his friends, trying keep them from shaking so much, but it didn't work very well as his teeth were chattering, and his lips were blue.

"I can't wait to get home." He whispered to Bryony, who just nodded and kept his head down.

"Now, for our tributes!" Mimi said loudly, pausing until she was sure that she had everyone's attention. "Ladies first!" Reaching a pale white hand into the bowl, she pulled out the paper and read confidently. "Serenity Gilbert!" Marsh, along with everyone else in the square, craned his neck to see the doomed girl. It wasn't a name that he recognized, so he had no idea how old she was, or where she would be until the group of seventeen year olds started to gather along the edges of the space allotted to them, leaving a fragile looking girl on her knees in the middle, the rain plastering her long hair to her face and shoulders. As the girl showed no signs of moving, the peacekeepers simply lifted her up by the arms and pulled her, toes dragging, up onto the stage. They set her down next to Mimi, who quickly put an arm around the girl, gesturing for the peacekeepers to leave the stage. "You must be Serenity, yes?" She asked, smiling at the cameras, her grin copied on the two large screens.

"Yes." The girl managed to squeak out before she passed out, falling onto the stone floor.

"Oh!" Mimi exclaimed trying in vain to prop the girl up. "Stay tuned for the second half of the district twelve reaping!" She said anxiously toward the cameras, the copies of her face on the screens fading into the Capitol emblem. There was a swarm of activity on the stage as cameramen repositioned themselves and stagehands brought a chair out next to Mimi, setting Serenity in it and trying to wake her up. The escort stomped around reapplying makeup and rolling her eyes at the citizens of twelve, her mask of joy having fallen as soon as the cameras turned off. A few minutes later, Mimi tapped the end of the microphone, silencing the quiet buzz of the crowd as the screens came back to life. "Welcome back!" She said, as if this was normal. As if people all over the Capitol weren't talking about the unplanned interruption of the reapings. "Serenity Gilbert has been called, and now we move on to the boys!" Reading the card she had already chosen from the bowl, Mimi announced. "Marsh Melonee!"

It was an odd thing, Marsh thought. Being completely forgotten by your entire society for your whole life, only to be singled out and recognized by all of them in one moment. Much like the spectacle of the reapings had been interrupted by the girl's fall, his life, his fun was being interrupted. Permanently. Rubbing his watering eyes furiously with his sleeve, Marsh walked away from his friends, and went with the peacekeepers to the stage. He slipped on his way, falling into the mud for a moment before being pulled up roughly and set back on his way. When he got to his place on the stage he clenched his fists to keep from shaking, his long dirty nails digging into the soft skin. Looking down at the nauseated girl in the chair, and out into the completely defeated faces of the people of district twelve, Marsh realized what all of them must have been thinking. There would be no victor for the district this year.

* * *

**A/N**

**Sorry it took me so long to publish this one. I've been a busy, busy bee. Anyway, blah, blah, still need tributes, remember to Bet, look at my profile for details, the usual speech. ;) haha**

**Also, let me know what you think!**

**Will Colleen and Aden's love survive?**

**Will Athene and Slater get their revenge? And will their conflicting interests come between them?**

**Will District 3's advantage bring them their next victor?**

**District 9 has some pretty impressive tributes this year, and they're pretty excited. Are you?**


	10. A Blood Red Sunrise (D7)

Chapter 9: District 7 Reaping: **A Red Sunrise**

* * *

District 7

* * *

Rhia Davis sat curled on her bed, pressing her back into the corner created by the two walls of her large bedroom. It was the earliest part of the morning of the reaping, but she knew her mother wouldn't be sleeping. She would be roaming the halls of the house, reliving the night before her own reaping.

Maple Davis was the victor of the thirty-first Hunger Games. At eighteen she had joined the Career pack, which gave her access to the weapons and food that sustained her throughout the two-week period. Largely regarded as one of the largest, most destructive career packs in the history of the Games, the group killed eleven of the other tributes during the bloodbath, quickly and methodically hunting down the surviving tributes after that. On the eve of their last hunt, the victim of which would be Maple's district partner, Maple slaughtered the entire pack as they slept. They never saw it coming. Still soaked in the blood of her victims, the sun rose on the sight of Maple cornering her partner, his feet inches away from the edge of a deep ravine. She took one step forward, that's all it took, and he jumped. The memories haunted Maple, and the slightest noise, the smallest sight, sent her into fits of rage, depression, and terror.

After the first couple years her name had been in the reaping, Rhia had learned what to expect on the night before the names were called, so she wasn't in the least bit surprised when her mother threw the door of her room open, rushing through the doorway. "I saw you training yesterday," she said, her hands curling into the same tight fists that had strangled the girl from district one. "You were pathetic." Bringing her fist back, she thrust it forward, catching Rhia in the nose and causing her head to snap back, hitting the wall. "I didn't even train. Not for a day!" Her hands came down again, skirting the arms Rhia had brought up to cover her face, and connecting with her abdomen. "And I was _far_ more impressive than you!"

"Mom, stop," Rhia gasped. "Please."

"No, _you _stop!" The woman screamed, pulling her daughter off of the bed and sending her crashing to the floor. "They won't let you get away without being reaped. They _won't_!"

"Stop!" Rhia yelled a little louder, trying to stand up. She'd tried to retaliate two years ago, but she had learned her lesson. It only made it worse.

"You can't be weak," Maple said, trembling with rage. "You can't run like your Father did!" Rhia's father had left eight years ago when Maple's behavior had become increasingly erratic. Rhia had been so sweet, so innocent, that she had believed he would come back. That he would help her. But he never did.

As her mother's abuse began to lessen for a moment, Rhia climbed back onto her bed, inching along the wall until she felt her back brush the rough, thick blackout curtains that were drawn across the window.

"Mom," she said bitterly, her hands reaching behind her. "You're not yourself. Just go to bed." Maple screamed, and lunged forward, her hands searching for her daughter's throat. Turning quickly, Rhia ripped the curtains apart, bathing herself, her mother, and the entire room in the light of the sunrise. The anger in Maple's eyes dissolved rapidly, leaving her staring at the rising sun with a horrified look on her face.

"Thomas," She whispered, the name of her old district partner slipping off of her lips as she fell to her knees. "What am I?"

Slipping past her mother, Rhia walked shakily into her bathroom, flipping on the lights and staring at her bruised reflection. That was it, she thought, she couldn't wait until she was eighteen. Rhia couldn't take another year of this torture; she was going into the Games today.

* * *

As the brilliant display graced the sky, Chase Rige held tightly onto the swaying branches of the Elder tree, the tallest recorded tree in all of district seven. Chase sat there every morning, clinging to the very highest of the branches to watch the sunrise.

Suddenly the branches started to sway, the motion growing wilder and wilder as time went on, forcing Chase to shimmy down toward the trunk as fast as he could. When he reached a fork in two strong branches, Chase quickly wedged himself into it and looked up, the hovercraft from the Capitol almost blocking out the sky. The behemoth of metal scratched the branches of the Elder where Chase had been moments ago, and landed behind the justice building. As soon as the propulsion systems had turned off, all the people working during the reaping poured out of the machine, busying themselves with a million different tasks in and around the building. This, of course, was going to make getting away from the crowd without being noticed infinitely harder for Chase. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be up here. No one was.

Sliding down the trunk, Chase slowed his decent with the many footholds he had grown familiar with until he finally dropped to the ground. Looking around, the small boy was relieved to see that no one had noticed. Nonchalantly walking around the tree, Chase started to quicken his pace, directing his bare feet toward his home. "You!" A voice shouted, causing Chase to speed up slightly, pretending not to hear. "Little blonde child, with no shoes!" Well, he thought, there was no getting away from that. Turning around slowly he searched for the source of the voice.

There he was, Supple Brittlebee, the district escort. Chase's eyes widened as the man stalked closer, why would anyone choose to look like this? The man appeared to be split down the middle, one half of his suit white, and the other half a dark, forest green. It wasn't just the clothes however; the man's hair was made up of short, light spikes on the white side, and long, dark dreadlocks on the other. The man's face was even different on each side, his lips, eyebrows, and even his nose surgically altered to the extent that his skin appeared to be a mask. Well, two masks. "Yes, sir?" Chase asked as the man approached, keeping his eyes down so he wouldn't stare.

"I saw what you did," Supple said, pointing a white, polished can at Chase. "I saw you climb down the Elder tree." Chase stayed silent, hoping he would let it go. "You know, that isn't strictly allowed," Supple said, his rich voice tapering off.

"Yes, I know," Chase said, shuffling his feet.

"Don't worry, child," the man said, lifting Chase's chin with the end of his cane. "I'm not a stickler for the rules." Half of the man's face contorted into a smile, the other side staying in its bitter frown. "Now, how far up did you go?" Chase started to back away.

"Well, I had to get out of the way, or your ship would've hit me." Turning around, Chase ran down the road, ignoring the never-ending questions posed by the scary man.

* * *

"Rhia, you have to get away from her. I know it will be a shock having to work, but if anyone can do it, it would be you." Rhia's best friend Taffeta wouldn't stop talking. Ever since Rhia had shown up in front of the justice building, the bruises on her face showing for all to see, Taffeta had been endlessly generating escape plans.

"Taffeta, don't worry," Rhia said, putting her hands on her friend's shoulders. "I'm leaving her. Today. I'm never going back."

"Great! You can come stay with-" the girl's voice faded as she realized what Rhia was talking about. "Oh, Rhia, you were going to wait for next year."

"I can't wait anymore," Rhia said, turning to face the mayor as she gave her speech from the fancy porch built into the face of the house. "It has to happen now. I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Taffeta turned away as well, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I suppose," she said simply.

"Hello district seven!" Supple announced, taking the mayor's place. "Here I am again, and you know what that means!" The crowd gave a small applause. "I will now pull the names of the tributes that will be sent to the Capitol, no doubt to win us some honor and glory, eh?" he said, stepping up to the two hollow logs that were used to house the names of the district's children. "For the girls we have," Supple paused, glancing at the name he had pulled from the log. "Lillian Meadows!" A choking sound came from the section of fourteen year olds, a plump girl with two large braids stumbling forward and making her way to the porch. When she finally arrived Supple put his arm around her, patting her arm before turning toward the microphone. "Cheer up now, it's not all that bad is it?" Realizing that the girl wasn't capable of answering at the moment, Supple continued. "I suppose I have to ask, do we have any volunteers?" A collective sigh went through the crowd. There were never volunteers.

"I volunteer as tribute!" Rhia yelled, startling the girls that were standing around her. Pushing aside everyone that got in her way, Rhia walked up to the porch, feeling the eyes of the entire district burning into her.

"Well, well!" Supple said, leaning in and whispering to the sniffling girl so that only those on the stage could hear. "This is your lucky day." The girl ran away from the man, past all the other children, and into the crowd of parents, quickly finding her own.

"My name is Rhiannon Davis," Rhia said before Supple could ask.

"Well, Ms. Davis," Supple said, his eyes raking over the bruises on Rhia's arms and face. "I'm sure you will do _splendidly_ in the Capitol." Rhia stared him down defiantly, waiting until he looked away to direct her own gaze over to her mother. Maple was sitting on the edge of her seat. Her arm held down by the only other living district seven victor; an aging man named Soren Grounds.

"Let's move on!" Supple said. "And your male tribute will be, Chase Rige!"

* * *

"What?" Chase asked the boy next to him. "What did he say?" All the people standing around Chase stepped back, leaving him alone when the words sounded again.

"Chase Rige?"

Chase's eyes widened, and he could feel the tears start to collect in them. No! That was impossible! Dad said it was impossible! This was his first year, and he didn't take out any tesserae, so why would it be him? What were the odds? He didn't even notice that his feet had started moving, that he was surrounded by peacekeepers, and that he was almost face to face with that horrifying man again.

"How… interesting." Supple said, grabbing Chase by the shoulder, a spark of recognition in his eye. "Do we have any volunteers?" he asked, his hand still on the boy's shoulder. "No? Well, ladies and gentleman, I present your tributes for the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games!"

Turning around, the man followed both tributes into the house, his long dreadlocks hanging next the tall, deadly silent volunteer, and his white cane tapping next to the shaking, defeated form of the tiny boy.

* * *

Chase's parents rushed into the room, followed by his younger sister Macey. Her fair hair, pale complexion, and even her green eyes streaming with tears matched her brother's exactly, traits they had acquired from their father. The two had spent almost every waking moment together, and the sight of her sent Chase into an even deeper depression. The loneliness, the crushing loneliness he felt in his predicament was creating a tightness in his chest, a lightness in his head, a feeling he had never felt before, not even at the very top of the Elder tree. "My beautiful boy," Chase's mom choked out, her hands trembling as she fumbled with something around her neck. "Take this," she said, pressing her mother's old locket into his small hand. "Don't forget us," she cried. "We won't forget you."

The peacekeepers came, too soon it seemed, and took them away, Chase's fist still clutching the metal necklace that still held his mother's warmth.

* * *

"Get out," Rhia said as soon as her mother appeared in the doorway.

"But Rhiannon, you have to know," Maple pleaded, reaching out for her daughter.

"Get. Out." Rhia repeated, not even looking her mother in the eye. She turned her back on the woman and waited until the peacekeepers came to take her, neither of them saying another word. The door opened again and Rhia turned, "Taffeta, I— the girl stopped, greeted not by her friend, but by her father.

"Rhia," the man said quickly. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry!?" she yelled. "You left me alone with her for _eight years_ and you say sorry!?"

"I wanted to take you with me," he said, tears falling freely down his face. "But your mother wields a lot of power as a victor, and she didn't even let me see you, please believe me!"

"You should have tried harder!" Rhia yelled, her resolve crumbling.

"Honey, I'm sorry, I know I should have fought harder, but what else can I say? What else can I do?" Rhia's father dug into his pocket, pulling out a chain adorned with a beautifully set diamond. "She gave me this. Before the Games," he said, holding it out to his daughter. "I kept it to remember what she was like, but I want you to have it. I want you to remember what you were like. Don't lose yourself like she did." Rhia turned around and faced the window. She heard him set the necklace on the table, and that was only sound for a long while. How could she accept it? After what she'd been through, the cold touch of the necklace would only serve to remind her of her mother's own cold hands around her throat. He couldn't possibly expect her to just forgive him, to just let him off the hook for the torture he'd left her to. Could he? Spinning around, Rhia went to speak, but the room was empty. He'd already gone.

* * *

**A/N **

**Helloo Readers! Let me know what you think of district 7 when you send me your bets, okay? And if it's too much trouble to PM me your bets, you can always leave them in the reviews too. **

**As of now CABLE KELVIN from DISTRICT THREE has the highest Capitol Betting Average.**

**Also, I just started drawing/sketching all the tributes. Expressing myself through my art helps me to think better, which helps my thought processes when writing about the characters. You probably don't care to know such things, but Ha, as the writer, I control what you do or do not hear about, regardless of your preferences! ... Okay I'll stop.**


	11. What are the Odds? (D5)

Chapter 10: District 5 Reaping: **What are the Odds?**

* * *

District 5

* * *

"_Everyone, thank you for coming to the District 5 reaping," Sissy Fracille announced, her voice surprisingly low. "This year we will be picking out the weakest child to come forward as tribute." Grace Feller's head whipped around, searching the crowd of empty faces for someone, anyone that was smaller, weaker than her. She was confused. The more she looked, the less she recognized the people standing around her. She thought the ever-changing form in front of her might be her brother, but that wouldn't make sense. He would be with the boys. Her eyes flicking back to the stage, Grace stared at the woman with the giant mouth, framed by blood-red lips. The District escort reached a hand out into the crowd, somehow stretching from her place on the stage all the way out to where Grace was standing. "You!" She screamed, her hand gripping Grace's hair like a vise. "You are the weakest, you will be the tribute." Sissy pulled Grace onto the stage, forcing her to her knees in front of the entire district and chaining her hands to a manacle that she wore around her ankle. Grace cried, her sobs echoing throughout the silent square. Her? Why her?_

Grace woke up, a bead of cold sweat crawling down the length of her spine. It was just a dream. Standing up quickly, perhaps too quickly, Grace left the room and stumbled into the room next door, willing the spots in her vision to fade. The bed in this room was empty, already made up, as if no one had slept there at all. "Andrew," Grace said, turning around and walking back into the hallway. A blonde head appeared from around the corner. Grace's startling green eyes met her brother's more subdued, brown pair, and the head disappeared again. Grace walked down the hall, dragging her finger against the white, peeling paint before turning into the room Andrew was in. It was their mom and dad's old room, their things still decorating the dressers, though it was all covered in a layer of dust.

Grace and Andrew's mom had died in an electrical accident thirteen years ago. It was the only meltdown in district history, and was considered taboo to everyone living there. There was a lot of mystery and controversy wrapped up in the accident too, including Capitol intervention, sealed records, and even the introduction of a new mayor. The explosion was publicly reported to have taken over six hundred lives; a number that some said was improbably high; in fact, there were rumors that some of the victims of the "accident" had no business being anywhere near the plant where the accident took place. After new, apparently significant information came to light, their father left both of his kids with their grandmother, disappearing into the secret corners of district five to join the rebels. When Grace and Andrew turned twelve their grandmother died, leaving them the money acquired from selling her house and the facts behind their father's disappearance. Instead of giving themselves to the orphanage, the two set up an elaborate charade, telling everyone that their father had come back and was supporting them. In reality they worked in the factories instead of going to school, taking out as much tesserae as was allowed, and living alone in their old family home.

Andrew was in the bathroom connected to their parents' room, smoothing out the worn gray suit he had worn for the last two years. Their eyes met in the mirror and Grace's eyes fell to the floor. Turning around, Andrew gave her hug before straightening her up and turning back around to comb his hair. That's just how they were. They didn't need to use a lot of words to know what the other was thinking, or feeling. He knew about her dreams, and about her fear. She knew about his exhaustion, how he was longing for a break from their arduous schedule. Andrew let out a sigh and left the bathroom. He would be going to start breakfast, a chore that was usually Grace's. He would do it though, as she had slept in, and had to get ready for the reaping as well. After taking a quick bath and tying her long, dark red hair into a knot on the back of her head, Grace slipped into her nicest dress and walked downstairs. The kitchen was empty.

* * *

Andrew opened the front door and walked toward the square, knowing his sister would be following shortly. Technically, they were late, and they needed to get to the reaping as soon as possible, but she knew that, and was completely capable of making it there on time. Stretching his long arms, Andrew bent his shoulder and started at a brisk pace toward the sound of the entire district milling around. When he arrived, he slowed to a stop in front of the peacekeeper's table, shoving his hand down for them to take his blood. They looked a little annoyed, as most of the kids had already been checked in for a while. Walking to his place with the fifteen year olds, Andrew looked over his shoulder and saw his sister running up to the table as well. She would have been almost five minutes behind, but she had still caught up. She had always been faster than him. Watching her hands run through her hair, Andrew knew she was nervous. Her dream must have been about the reaping.

Turning back to the stage, Andrew saw Sissy Fracille make her way to the microphone where she began her announcements, ending with a cheery "May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" Her over large, ruby-red lips pursed like she was about kiss the card in her hand, Sissy read the name in her exaggerated Capitol accent. "Grace Feller!"

There was a murmur of "poor girl" as people in the district recognized one of the girls with who had lost a parent in the accident. Andrew was proud of her though, she still stood straight, she didn't cry, she still had the smile on her face that she kept for the benefit of the district. They'd both been wearing that smile since they turned twelve. While her smile stayed strong, Andrew's faltered. A look of fear crossed his eyes. How would he keep going without her?

Sissy gave Grace a kiss on each cheek, leaving two red imprints of her lips on her face, and turned to the second bowl. "Now for the gentleman," she said, her eyes lighting up at the prospect. Sissy was known for taking an unhealthy amount of interest in the male tributes of her district. "Andrew Feller!" She called, her voice faltering as she recognized the last name. "Oh my," she whispered, holding her breath along with the entire district.

A brother and sister pair had never been reaped before.

The odds were definitely not in their favor.

Andrew took his place next to his sister and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. At least we are together. We have always been strong together. "You _are_ her brother, correct?" Sissy asked, putting a long, thin arm around Andrew.

"Yes, yes I am," he said simply.

"Well, you must be glad to stay together!" She said, grasping at straws, trying to say something to break the miserable atmosphere.

Peacekeepers came and led Grace and Andrew away, Sissy trying to give one last announcement, but giving up and following the siblings into the building instead.

**A/N**

**Get ready. For the longest. Author's note. Ever. Muahaha**

**First I'd like to talk about this chapter. You may have noticed that it was a lot shorter than most of the chapters I write. Yes! It is. I couldn't really expand more on the events of each persons life because they play an important part in each other's lives, and I wanted to communicate the quiet, controlled, simple life of these two characters. Hopefully that came across, and it didn't just fall flat.**

**Next I'd like to make a special announcement! I have started... a BLOG! For this story. haha I'll post the URL on my profile, so check it out and tell me what you think!**

**I will be posting there in a sort of behind the scenes perspective of the Games. If you check in there regularly, you will be able to interact more with the Games, answer questions, and vote on different things. I'll also be posting my artwork, (portraits of characters, and scenes during the actual games) so if anyone's interested in that, you can go to the blog as well.**

**My mind has been overwhelmed with possibilities for the "Train" chapters, so I've had to literally force myself to keep writing the reapings. One thing that keeps me excited is YOUR interest in my story, so please Read and Review. I'd like to take this time to give a shout out to Gallantgrove for keeping up a running conversation with me about my work. It helps a lot!**

**Keep sending in your bets as well, and if you are a guest and can't PM, just leave them in the reviews, I'll be happy to add those as well!**

**-IVV**


	12. Flannel and Silk (D10)

Chapter 11: District 10 Reaping: **Flannel and Silk****  
**

* * *

District 10

* * *

"Bandit Lee!" The girl's mother, Chanelle Highland called from the porch. "Finish your work and get in here, we're having lunch early!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Bandit called, rolling her eyes.

Finish your work. Like it was that easy.

The Highland's were one of the few families left in the district that owned their own private ranch. Over the years, as their money began to run out, most of the other families in the district had been forced to sell out to the large companies. They were still allowed to live in the large, expensive homes that graced the large plots of land, but they didn't own them, and could be expelled at any time. That was a situation that Mark Highland, Bandit's father, had been very proud to avoid. Working alongside his four children, the man had built a financial foundation for his estate that would benefit generations to come. Bandit Lee had to work twice as much as the other girls her age, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Pride in a hard days work had been passed down from her father.

Bandit unfastened the many buckles attached to the saddle of her horse, Bitterburn, muscling it off of the horse's back and heaving it up onto its rack, the satisfying thud of leather against wood jarring her aching arms. Walking out of the barn, the girl pushed her pin straight blonde hair out of her eyes and swung the large door closed, shoving the cool metal latch into place as she turned and walked toward the house. Dropping her work gloves in the pile accumulating next to the stairs leading up to the wraparound porch, Bandit ran up the stairs and stepped out of her boots, leaving them at the end of the line of the rest of her family's footwear.

Mother did _not_ let the workers wear their boots in the house.

Bandit swung open the door, walking into the substantially cooler house and breathing in the familiar scent of the cleaned and polished interior. Following the straight lines in the wood floor that had been last summer's project, Bandit quickly entered the dining room and sat in her place, smiling an apology at her mother.

"You," Bandit's oldest brother, Louis, said dramatically. "Stink." Bandit's younger sister, Dale snorted out a laugh.

"And you have dirt on your face too." Dale giggled, giving her wet, and newly washed hair a small shake.

"That's enough," Mrs. Highland said, stopping the teasing before it got out of hand. "At least wait until Papa's said grace." Chanelle looked at her husband and grabbed his tan, calloused hand, prompting them all to bow their heads over the plates of steaming food.

"Dear Lord," Mr. Highland began. "We thank you for the energy you've given us to complete our work today. Thank you for blessing us with such a wonderful, hardworking woman to take care of the house and make such delicious food for us when we come back home," Bandit opened her eyes briefly to see the small smile that had spread across her mother's lips. Hopefully, I'll find a love like this some day, she thought, glancing over to meet her brother's critical gaze before closing her eyes again. "Thank you for watching over us continually, and keeping us safe." There was a moment as Mr. Highland paused, and the rest of the family held their breath. "You know what today is, Lord, and You already know its outcome. We ask that you stay with Flynt, Bandit, and Dale, no matter what happens during the reaping this afternoon. Amen."

"Amen." The family repeated. Picking up her fork, Bandit looked up at her mother once again, this time seeing a very different picture. Her knuckles white from squeezing her husband's hand, Mrs. Highland was staring at nothing in particular, oblivious to the tears beginning to stream unchecked down her pale face.

* * *

Andelin Brown looked into the mirror, frowning as his mother continually smoothed his hair with her heavy hand, pushing his head this way and that to accomplish the task.

"You are not a handsome boy, Andelin," his mother said, giving up on her initial idea for his hair and immediately smoothing the brown strands in the opposite direction. "You need to take care of yourself, or you will never get married."

"Thanks, mom," Andelin said in an emotionless voice. "Your encouraging comments always help to bolster my spirits."

"Oh, stop," she laughed, giving his brown suit jacket one last swipe before pronouncing the boy ready for the reaping. "Now remember, son," she said, giving her annual speech. "Stand as close to the group of girls as you can, and shake your head in sadness when the girl gets picked. Then, when Mr. Magenta goes to pick the boy, hold your head up and look strong."

"Mom," Andelin sighed, turning to face his mother. "They're not going to be looking, and even if they were, I'm only fourteen. It doesn't matter what they think of me yet."

"You don't know if they will or will not be looking," she scolded, pushing him out the bathroom door and up the stairs. "And what they think of you now will affect what they think of you later, I promise. I kissed your father in," Andelin interrupted before she could continue.

"In third grade, and next thing you know, you're married and have three kids. I know, mom, you've told me a million times."

Mrs. Brown huffed. "Don't interrupt your mama."

"I'm going to the reaping early," Andelin said quickly, stepping through the Brown family front door before his mother could answer him. "I want to see them set up!"

When he got to the square he stood outside and watched as the crew set up the large screens and dealt with various issues that came up. It was fascinating.

Then Mr. Magenta came through the front door accompanied by the mayor.

Andelin had always been fascinated by the only piece of the Capitol that had ever set foot in district ten. The high, arching eyebrows that looked perpetually surprised, the tight, beautifully fitted dark pink suit, the white stained lips, and the many and varied rings on his long, graceful fingers, all added up to a very striking and compelling image. Andelin had always wondered what it was like to be surrounded by people who spent so much time on their personal appearance. It would probably make him feel even worse about himself than talking to his mother. Andelin walked toward the peacekeeper station as soon as it was set up and checked in, walking into the square and sitting down on the portion of cement saved for his peers, though none of them had shown up yet. As the square began to fill up, Andelin stood up and began to search the crowd for his sisters, eventually catching the eye of Annamaria, who was standing with the other thirteen year olds. She was scared, he could tell. Smiling at her from his place, he winked, finally getting her to relax and form a smile of her own. The mayor stood up and began her opening speech, the familiar, formal words settling the crowd into their cold silence. At the end of her annual speech, however, she continued on a new line of thought.

"Today is the day that we remember one of the most costly decisions in the history of our world." She said, her thin lips frowning at the crowd. "The decision to rebel. Rebellion against higher powers has never had a positive affect, and it never will. Please, I urge you, the people of district ten, to continue to live a life void of even the smallest of rebellions. Unlike this man, who was found taking money from his employers at Bellman Brothers Inc." She gestured to the left, signaling for two burly peacekeepers to drag a man up onto the stage. The bruises on his face and arms showed very clearly what the man had been through before this public punishment.

"I'm sorry!" The tortured scream rang through the crowd, without an answer.

"Because of your rebellion against your employers, you will be executed publicly and buried in an unmarked grave." The mayor said this, her eyes staring unmoving at the crowd. "You will die nameless, as is fitting for the seriousness of your crimes." One of the peacekeepers drew his gun from its holster and set it against the man's skull, pulling the trigger. The corpse fell to the ground soaked in blood, the screeches from the crow quickly quieting as the people began to notice the large amount of peacekeepers surrounding the square. Andelin looked up at the cameras, noting the absence of the blinking red light that indicated that it was recording.

Of course they had been turned off. No one in the Capitol would want to see this.

* * *

Bandit watched the flurry of motion as a crew came and took away the body, cleaning up the mess in a quick, efficient, emotionless way. As soon as the crew was off of the stage, the lights, cameras, and sound system came back on, Mr. Magenta waltzing to the microphone and smiling at the people.

"Hello, hello!" His easy, comfortable exterior was sickening when Bandit thought of what had just taken place on the stage, right where he was standing. "Once again we find ourselves here, ready to give two more souls the chance to win all the riches and glory of the Capitol. Let's pick the girl first, shall we?" Walking over to a crudely crafted trough, an object that mocked the district's main purpose with its poor craftsmanship, Magenta pulled a card out and read the name in a clear, but anticlimactic tone. "Bandit Lee Highland."

Bandit had never felt so cold. Every child in the districts had tried to imagine what it would be like to hear their name called out across the square. Would they cry? Would they scream? Would they curse? Bandit walked slowly toward the stage, perhaps too slowly, as peacekeepers came and hurried her along. Looking over her shoulder Bandit saw her mother clinging to her father, hiding her sobs in his flannel shirt. Bandit loved that shirt. She remembered how it felt, even how it smelled, with perfect clarity.

She had been eight years old. It was the first time she'd met Bitterburn, a horse her father had purchased from their next-door neighbor. Louis had said she would never be able to ride the horse, but she wanted to prove him wrong. Tiptoeing out to the barn, Bandit had opened the door, walked quietly to Bitterburn's stall, and climbed onto his back. Of course, the horse bolted. After miraculously holding on for a few minutes, the horse bucked her off, kicking her in the head in the frenzy. Thankfully, the family had heard her screaming, and they were able to take her to the hospital where she recovered. Bandit could still remember the moment she had woken up, safe, warm, and in her father's arms. He had traced the long scar on her head with his fingers, the soft flannel of his shirt rubbing against her skin as he whispered, "Everything is going to be okay."

Even though she was staring at the strange man in front of her, Bandit barely heard him call out the second name. "Andelin Brown!" She was joined on the stage by a small, skinny, nervous-looking boy. The only one alive who knew how she felt at this moment.

Andelin stared at Magenta. He was so close to him that if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch the luxurious fabric that the suit was shaped out of. The man looked down and smiled, letting out a small sigh. From this close up, Andelin could see blonde stubble growing on the face that was nearly as white as the clouds. It added a touch of reality to the almost extra-terrestrial appearance of the escort.

"Ladies and gentleman," the man's rich voice rang out. "Your tributes!"

* * *

**A/N **

**This one took me a while, but I like how it turned out. Tell me what you think!**

**I will be posting polls on here, and on my blog (the URL is on my profile), and I would love to see people participating in those. **

**Also, I have some very exciting news. A good friend of mine has agreed to help out with the tribute portraits! This way the drawings will be posted faster, and they will be much better. (She's far more talented than I am)****The first series will be each of them in their chariot outfits, which I'm really excited about.**

**AND I have decided to reply to as many reviews as possible. So be warned. ;)**

**-IVV**


	13. Trapped (D6)

Chapter 12: District 6 reaping: **Trapped**

* * *

District 6

* * *

She was cute. Not his usual type, but he liked to keep his options open. Sawyer Coleman leaned his immense, muscled frame against the cool metal of the wall, his body coming closer to the small, curly-haired girl he was talking to. "I heard about your promotion last year," she was saying, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "That's pretty hot." Her statement dissolved into giggles and her eyes glinted playfully.

"Thanks," Sawyer said, drawing out the sound of the word as his deep voice faded off. He reached out and took the girl's hand in his own before continuing. "I've been pretty lucky."

"I guess you could say, 'the odds are ever in your favor,'" she said, her voice a mocking imitation of the Capitol accent. Inching closer, the girl looked up at Sawyer with a look he knew well.

"Something like that." Sawyer grinned, showing his perfect teeth. The boy bent down and kissed the shorter girl, wrapping his long arms around her waist. The temperature in the room seemed to rise as the girl's hands started to move underneath Sawyer's shirt lingering there for a few moments before Sawyer grabbed her wrists and tugged them out. "Whoa, hold your horses," He said, taking a step back. "I really like you, but you're moving a little fast."

"I love you, Sawyer." The girl said breathily, trying to press herself against him.

"That's sweet, but I have to see my family before the reaping. I'll see you there." Sawyer left the girl to catch her breath, stepping through the door of his office and walking the length of the factory he had worked in since he had started helping his mother with the bills, a task he had started at the relatively young age of ten.

The poverty of his family was brought on by the death of his father, the victim of one of the many accidents that occur in district six. When Mrs. Coleman had heard the news she had been sad, but not surprised. When you have such a large amount of heavy machinery going in and out of the district at the speeds needed to keep up production, there were bound to be losses. At first, because of his young age and slender build, Sawyer's job at MechTech was to climb into the large factory machinery, cleaning out blockages or fixing small pieces. It was a dangerous job, and many of the kids like him didn't even see their first reaping. He was lucky to have escaped from that particular occupation with his life, his rapid growth in size keeping him from working inside the machines. Of course, he hadn't left completely unscathed. White scars of all different shapes and sizes created a spider web-like patter on his hands. After shifting from one task to another for several years, the company's president noticed Sawyer designing a new engine for the Capitol trains, utilizing skills far beyond his years. After Sawyer personally demonstrated his ability and ingenuity to the man, he had been promoted to the position of Vice President at the age of sixteen, an unheard-of achievement. His immense rise in payment allowed his mother to quit her second and third jobs, and even kept his younger siblings from having to work as well, meaning they could go to school.

Walking past the school on his way home, Sawyer waved at Sebastian, his younger brother. The boy was lining up with the other twelve-year olds on the front lawn in front of the tall, menacing brick building, listening to the tall and equally menacing principal explain the process and proper behavior of the reaping. Sebastian was a smart kid, and Sawyer couldn't wait to see what he would accomplish.

Finally reaching his own home, Sawyer walked through the front door and called out, "I'm home! We can go now!" The sound of his mother and sister floated down from the upstairs bathroom.

"No we can't!" Sandra, now eight years old, yelled. "This dress is stupid, and I'm not going until mom gives me something else!"

"It is _not _stupid, Sandra, and use your inside voice," Mrs. Coleman scolded. "Sawyer, why don't you come tell Sandra how beautiful she looks in her new dress!" Sawyer strode up the stairs two at a time, coming to a stop in the doorway to the bathroom and peaking in at his sister. She was staring angrily at her reflection in the mirror, her lips forced into a ridiculously dramatic pout.

"Sandra!" Sawyer exclaimed, picking the small girl up and twirling her around, an action that caused his mother to squeeze farther into the small room to avoid being hit. "You look exactly like the cupcakes we had at work last week." He laughed, setting her down when she started to kick at him.

"A cupcake?!" She cried despairingly, falling into a puddle of pink ribbons and bows. "I knew I looked silly!"

"Oh, Sawyer," Mrs. Coleman said, giving him a playful slap on the arm. "You are no help at all." Sawyer laughed and plucked his sister off the ground; this time setting her on the counter and giving her sandy blonde curls a fluff.

"There," he said, using his large, rough hands to push the corners of Sandra's smooth, chubby face into a smile. "Now you look perfect. Not like a cupcake in the slightest."

"Shut up, Sawyer." She said, slapping his hands away and trying to hide the genuine smile that had crept onto her face.

"Sandra!" Mrs. Coleman gasped. "Don't talk to your brother like that!"

* * *

"Mom," Skye whispered into the darkness. "Mom, are you there?" A weak groan came from inside the darkened room, the farthest right corner it seemed. Skye walked into the room and felt with her hands along the walls, making her way toward the sound. She stopped short for a second when she felt something on the ground, reaching out a foot and nudging the object in front of her. A pillow. Stepping over it, Skye kept walking until the noise sounded again, this time much closer. Bending down and crawling the rest of the way, the small girl finally reached the form of her mother.

"Sweetie," her mother mumbled. "What are you doing in here?"

"Cooper told me it was reaping day, and that I was supposed to tell you."

"Oh, did he?" The woman said in her usual slurred voice, standing up and pulling her daughter up with her. "Tell him that he can take you, I'll take care of the younger ones this year."

"But I've never gone before," Sky mused, following the sound of her mother's erratic footsteps out the door. "Why do I have to go now?"

"Because, darling, you're twelve now. Now, leave mommy alone for a bit, I've got to take care of something." Take care of something? It was probably the syringes.

Skylar Andronicus's parents had used the syringes since Skye was six.

Since she had gone blind.

Both of them were wealthy, successful doctors, working in practical medicine, major surgery, and even pharmaceutical research, but nothing either of them came up with had been able to cure their daughter when she had started to lose her sight. They tried to hide the syringes from her, they tried to pretend like they weren't doing anything wrong, but Skye figured it out. She was blind, not stupid. She would never forget the day when she had gone out by herself, an act that was strictly forbidden, and had been attacked by a girl from town. The girl had knocked Skye to the ground and kicked her in the stomach, screaming about something Skye's father had done. That he had operated on her own father, and that something had gone wrong, causing the man's death. She said it was because Skye's dad was a "filthy morphling addict." When Skye had asked her brother Cooper what the girl had meant, he had told her to forget it. Pretend like it never happened and never tell anyone about it. Sky trusted Cooper, he had practically raised her, so she obeyed. She even kept the incessant questions to herself. What was morphling? Why did her parents take so much? Why didn't they want her to know?

Walking slowly down the hallway, keeping her hand firmly planted on the polished wooden railing that Mr. Andronicus had installed for her use, Skye made her way back to the library.

"Cooper?" She said as soon as she felt the familiar shag carpeting underneath her feet.

"I'm here," Cooper said from across the room. "What did mom say?"

"She said that she would take care of Titus and Sora, and that you were supposed to take me to the reaping." Sky said, shuffling forward, her arms outstretched to intercept any objects that might be in her way.

"Okay," Cooper said. "Most people like to dress up when they go to the reaping. Do you want to put on a dress or something?" It was an odd question. At least, it sounded odd coming from Cooper's mouth. Why did he have to fill the motherly place in Skye's life?

"No, I don't need a dress." Sky said simply. She had never been bothered with how she looked before. Obviously.

"Okay, well I've already dressed, so we should probably go." Skye heard Cooper climb from a chair and listened to his quiet footsteps until they reached her. Holding out her hand, she let him take it and lead her out of the library, and outside.

"What is the reaping?" She asked, her voice sounding much smaller than it did when she was inside the house.

"Some people come from the Capitol and pick two kids, a boy and a girl, to go play a game with them." Something in Cooper's voice sounded sad, even more than his usual tired tone.

"Do you want to go play the game?" Skye asked, hearing the sound of a large crowd getting closer and closer.

"No, Skye," Cooper said. "Nobody wants to go play the game."

"Why not?"

"Because the kids don't usually come back."

* * *

Sawyer walked past the seventeen year-old girls' section on his way to his own group, "accidentally" bumping into a tall, swarthy girl who rolled her eyes and turned around. He'd been working on her for several weeks now, all of his usual advances failing miserably. He was persistent though, and she couldn't hold out forever. Spilling out a quick, but endearing apology, Sawyer joined the boys his age and waited for the program to start.

Razzle Moroe, the district escort, practically shoved the mayor away from the microphone before quickly taking his place and smiling ecstatically. Her face, broadcasted on a dozen screens throughout the large square, was completely covered in tattoos in colors that only slightly deviated from her natural skin color, giving her the appearance of a human patchwork quilt. "I'm back!" She squealed, hopping up and down in excitement. "I have a _very _special announcement for all of you! The film has been completely revised this year, and so is greater than ever. Enjoy!" The spotlight that had cast the woman's constantly shifting shadow onto the justice building faded to black, leaving the screens to broadcast the emblem of the Capitol. One of Sawyer's friends nudged his arm and looked at him with a questioning expression.

"What's different?" he asked, watching the screens with confusion.

"I think there's some screaming in the background." Sawyer commented, his focused expression cracking into a grin.

"You're right!" The boy said, stifling a laugh that had drawn the attention of two of the peacekeepers. Razzle practically danced up to the microphone once the film had ended.

"Wasn't that incredible?" She wheezed. "I caught a glimpse of it before I got here, and it took my breath away!" Her heels clicking quickly across the stage, the woman pulled two slips of paper from the large glass bowls and returned to her former position. "The male tribute for the forty-ninth annul Hunger Games is Sawyer Coleman!"

Sawyer smiled, a nervous chuckle escaping from between his teeth. Looking back and forth at his friends, he shook his head as if to shake off the nerves and walked up to the stage. Standing up on the stage next to Ms. Moroe, Sawyer smiled out at the crowd, though the happiness didn't reach his eyes. He hadn't felt like this since he'd started working in the factory; this cold, unavoidable fear. This feeling that he was trapped, in mortal danger, and completely alone.

* * *

Skye didn't know why everyone was so quiet. The crowd's murmurs had died to nothing when the lady's voice had finally called the boy's name. What was wrong? It was just a game, right? She would have asked Cooper, but he had said that she had to stay with the girls her age; the people she supposed were surrounding her now. Lifting up her foot and balancing on the other leg, Skye reached back and scratched her heel, feeling the dirt gather under her nails. Maybe she would wash her feet when Cooper took her home. "Well, aren't you a nice, strapping young man." The woman's voice said again. She said it like that was a good thing, so whatever the game was it must be hard, Skye thought.

Then she felt the first set of hands. Someone had pushed her toward the edge of the group!

"What was that?" Sky said loudly, trying to move back toward her spot. Cooper had said not to move. Then the hands pushed again, this time joined by more and more, and that was when she heard it; the sound of her own name echoing across the district square for the second time.

"Skylar Andronicus?"

Skye stopped short. That was why people were pushing her. She was going to play the game. Her hands immediately floated up, reaching forward, looking for something that would lead her toward the voice. Then she felt the first arm. This one wasn't pushing, it wasn't pulling, it was strong and stable. Obviously held out for her benefit, the arm was standing still. Latching onto the arm, Skye pulled herself along its length where she found another arm. People must be lined up, she thought, guiding her to her place. Tears fell freely from Skye's eyes as she walked along the long line of people, some of them patting her on the back, or giving her quick hugs as she walked past. She had been shunned and teased for so long, and though she didn't understand why they were doing it, these people were showing her kindness. Skye's foot finally bumped into the stone steps that Cooper had described, the ones that led to where the woman was standing. Strong, gloved hands pulled her by the arms up the steps and set her down. Then she felt the cold hand of the woman. Shivers went up and down the girl's spine. What was wrong with this woman? Was she part snake? The claws on the end of the freezing hand that felt as if it belonged to one of the dead dug into her shoulder as the woman said something else to the rest of the people in the square before finally pushing her through some unfamiliar doors and into a warm room that smelled strangely. Like roses, freshly cut wood, and lemons at the same time.

Cooper had said that the kids chosen to play the game didn't get to take their family; that they had to go alone. Cooper had always been there for her though, showing her the way, telling her what she needed to know, and guiding her to where she needed to go. Without him, she was lost. She was trapped in a world with limitless possibilities and infinite dangers.

* * *

**A/N**

**Only two reapings left! I'm SO excited. Also, exciting news, the chariot outfits are looking spectacular! If you check out my blog (the URL is on my profile) You will get a sneak peek at the work of the Capitol Stylists. I'll be posting the outfits as soon as they are finished.**

**Also, I'll be posting a bunch of polls and such on the same blog. Remember, your feedback only serves to improve the story, so check it out!**

**As of now, the top place in the Capitol Betting is shared by Cable Kelvin (D3), Rhia Davis (D7), and Bandit Highland (D10). The least popular tribute is the mysterious Grace Feller. If you think these scores are unfair, PM me your bets, and tell your friends to do the same. You could majorly affect the outcome of the Games!**


	14. Broken (D11)

Chapter 13: District 11: **Broken**

* * *

District 11

* * *

Walking, walking, walking. Sometimes it felt like Lannah's entire life was made up of walking between the expansive properties of district eleven.

Lannah Woolks was a bit of a plant expert, and her talents were used throughout most of the entire southern half of the district. The owners of the orchards, farms, and luxurious gardens would send for her when new, potentially dangerous plants were found growing in their property, if their plants started exhibiting new behavior, or just for tips on how to make the plants produce more fruit. You could count the most successful plantations on one hand, and all of them used Lannah's skills. In other districts this job would be rewarded handsomely, but in the poorest district in all of Panem the money she earned was still barely enough to feed one person. Thankfully, Lannah still lived with her parents. Lucas Woolks, Lannah's father, was the only doctor in sector seven, and Ashlyne Woolks, Lannah's mother, had a job similar to Lannah's. The three of them together were able to provide for themselves, as well as for Lannah's twelve year-old brother, Avion.

As Lannah got closer and closer to the small cluster of huts that contained her own house, she noticed several families walking slowly out of their houses, shuffling dejectedly down the long, dusty road in the direction of the justice building.

"No! It's reaping day!" Lannah squealed, genuinely surprised. Several of her neighbors raised their eyebrows, and even laughed as she passed them on the way to her home.

"Run, Lannah!" The middle-aged woman who lived next to the Woolks' yelled, her face breaking into a wide grin.

As soon as she crossed the threshold her mother let out an exasperated sigh. "Lannah, _today_ is the day you choose to be late?"

"I'm sorry, mama!" Lannah said, rushing to her chest of belongings and pulling out the dress that seemed to be shrinking every year.

"Great," Avion said. "I'm going to miss my first reaping." The boy slumped his shoulders and turned around with the rest of the family as Lannah changed into her reaping clothes. While they may have been able to afford food, a house with more than one room was out of the question.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Lannah pouted, pulling on the only pair of shoes she owned; a rough, crudely made pair of sandals.

"It's fine, Lannah," Mrs. Woolks said, pushing a large hat onto her daughter's head and urging her small family out of the house and into the light of the burning sun. "We will probably only miss the mayor's speech."

By the time the family reached the square, Lannah had already taken off the sandals, wincing as she looked down at her blistered and bleeding feet. She should have known to take them off before they started the long journey to the justice building. Glancing around the square, Lannah waved to a few of her friends, her eyes floating through the group of boys before they landed on him. Till Umber. Their eyes met for just a moment before Lannah looked away, gluing her eyes to the stage. If she were him, she wouldn't want people to stare. In fact, if she were him, she probably wouldn't have been brave enough to come to the reaping at all.

* * *

.

* * *

Till Umber glared resentfully as the girl averted her gaze. How shallow was she, that she wouldn't even look him in the eye? He shouldn't care though, that's what his brother said, he should be used to it by now.

The stares and whispers started nine years ago, when Till was eight years old. He was sitting with his parents in the hut that his family shared with several others, waiting for Till's older brother, Spud, to come home before they started dinner. It had been a perfectly normal day.

Then the fired started.

The dry, old huts that made up the slums of district eleven went up in flames so fast, almost no one escaped. Pouring the family's bucket of water over a blanket and draping it over Till's slight frame, Mrs. Umber screamed for him to run and lifted him out of the narrow window. Till ran between the burning buildings, choking on the black smoke that filled the air and listening to the tortured screams of his neighbors. The small boy saw things that day that no child should be exposed to, and heard things that should never invade the dreams of anyone his age. Just as he was about to escape the furious blaze, his foot caught on the edge of the blanket and the boy went sprawling, crashing into the side of a burning house. The weakened planks burst apart under the boy's weight, sending him into the darkness of the house's interior, and leaving him lying in a pile of cutting splinters and sizzling embers. Unable to cry out, Till dragged himself from the inferno and stumbled out into the crowds of people who looked on in horror, cradling his left arm.

The first person that saw the ruined boy let out a scream.

With ash covering him from head to foot, and the embers embedded in his skin still glowing white-hot, the boy resembled a twisted creature straight from the pit of hell. It wasn't until his brother recognized him and screamed for help that the doctors got close enough to give him medical attention.

He was never treated the same again. The scars that covered the entire left side of his body, leaving his face disfigured and his arm damaged beyond repair, only served to remind those who had witnessed the tragedy of his broken form immerging from the flames. The kids born after that day never met his eyes either, treating him like some kind of freak; a twisted mistake that had no place in society.

Till didn't care though. If they were stupid enough to reject him just because of what he looked like, he didn't _want_ to be with them. They were the broken ones, not him.

Looking at the pack of adults gathered behind the children, Till saw his brother, Spud, standing for the first time with those no longer eligible for the Games. He was standing next to his fiancée, holding her hand, and smiling. He looked relieved, which he had a right to be, as he was no longer in the reaping, but had he not spared a single thought for Till? Wasn't he worried in the slightest?

Spud led a relatively carefree life. He was well liked around the district, with his easy-going manner and boyish charm. He had even been popular with the girls until he decided to tie himself down. He had everything that had been scorched out of Till's life.

Turning away from his brother, Till smirked as an eighteen year-old that had been staring at him quickly spun to face the stage as well. What a moron.

"Hello, hello, district eleven. You all are looking _fabulous_ today. You _always_ impress me with the finery you display on reaping day."

Glancing around at the rough, bland fabric that made up the clothes of the entire district, Till couldn't help but let out a small laugh, a sound that greatly alarmed the boys standing next to him. Among all the morons in district eleven, here was the most idiotic one Till had ever laid eyes upon. Her name was Shining Brass, a name that most definitely did _not_ come from her parents, but had been changed to match the reflective tone and color that had been painted permanently onto every inch of her skin. If she stood still for too long, the woman looked like a statue. Dressed in a cream-colored slip of silky material that matched the large orb of hair perched on top of her head, the district escort looked positively ridiculous.

"Yes, it has been an entire year before I stood before you," Shining continued. "You have no doubt already forgotten the message the Capitol wishes to instill in you when the Games come around, so we shall once again refresh our memories with a short film." Raising her hands above her head, the woman shook her arms back and forth, causing the copious amounts of jewelry to clang in a way that was probably supposed to dramatically queue the video. It didn't work. After a minute of awkward silence, the woman grabbed the microphone and said loudly "Let's begin." Finally getting a response from the man running the screens.

Till wondered if they made all the other districts watch the film every year. What about the career districts, one, two, and four? They ate, drank, and breathed the Hunger Games, were _they _force-fed this nonsense about the rebellion every year? As the film ended, Shining gathered the names from the bowls and Till watched the children in the square, squirming where they stood. They were pathetic. Fear was a useless sensation, and letting it affect you like that was a sign of immaturity. Turning his head as the escort began to speak, Till heard her call out, "Lannah Woolks!" Till didn't recognize the name, but when the shorter girl with the long, dark hair walked up to stand next to Shining he recognized her as the girl who had been looking at him earlier.

The girl who had looked away.

Good, Till thought, she deserves to die in the Capitol, where everyone is as shallow as she is. Then the woman shouted out his own name, "Till Umber!" and everyone surrounding him turned to look. Sneering in disgust at the pity mixed in with the horrific fascination showing plainly on their faces, Till trudged through the crowd, walking up to the stunned, wide-eyed escort.

"Well, I… Oh dear god." Shining let out, covering her mouth with her hand. Frustrated tears started to fall down Till's face. How dare they? How dare they add this humiliation to the fact that he had just been sentenced to death? "Please," Shining said as soon as she had recovered her composure. "Shake hands, tributes."

* * *

.

* * *

Lannah reached out a hand without hesitating, grasping the boy's uninjured hand even though it hadn't been offered. "I'm sorry," she mouthed. It was a terrible thing Shining had done, insulting him in front of all these people. While they may have never spoken before, Lannah was determined to befriend him now. They were connected by tragedy. They were the only link they would have to their home up until the Games, and she wouldn't let that go just because of how he looked. Till wrenched his hand from hers as they turned to enter the justice building, turning on her as soon as the doors closed.

"Don't think I know," he spat. "That you're just like them, like everyone else, like _her._"

"Wait!" Lannah called weakly, watching him disappear into one of the plush, private rooms. "I'm not."

She didn't have to wait long until her parents and Avion ran into the room, wrapping her in their arms. Having Till standing on that stage next to her had distracted Lannah from her own fate until that moment, when she felt her mother's hot tears falling on her neck, coupled with her father's fierce hug.

"Baby girl." Mrs. Woolks moaned, kissing Lannah's face, neck, and hair. "Why'd they have to pick my baby girl?" Lannah's father peeled his wife away from Lannah, placing each of his hands on his daughter's shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

"Lannah, listen to me," he said, choking back his own tears. "You are a sweet girl, not a murderer."

"Papa," Lanna cried, trying to lean into his arms like she had done so many times before.

"No, Lannah, look at me," he said, keeping her at arm's length and continuing to hold her gaze. "We love you, and we are proud of the life you have lived so far. Don't change, baby girl." The man's composure broke for a moment, his body racked with sobs before he continued. "Don't you kill anybody. It's not in your nature, and don't let anyone tell you it should be. There is _nothing_ wrong with leaving this world quietly."

"Just because you won't kill anyone doesn't mean you shouldn't fight though. You _fight_ to stay alive, you _fight_ to help people, and you will have a chance of coming back to us, you hear? You understand me?" Finally, Lannah's father pulled her into a hug, trying to stabilize the quaking girl.

"I love you."

* * *

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* * *

**A/N**

**ONE REAPING LEFT. I'd be getting excited if I were you guys, this last reaping is like getting to the highest point of a roller coaster and waiting for the DROP. I have many a twisted scheme in store for these tributes, and I can't wait to continue to share them with you!**

**Please continue to read and review the chapters, it's the reviews that get me excited/inspired about writing, so the more reviews, the faster the chapters will come! Especially if you notice it's been a while between chapters, I would love to hear from you.**

**Other than that, just keep checking out my blog! Your participation on the various polls there is crucial, especially when it comes to training scores! I'll be posting polls regarding scores very shortly.**

**AND don't forget to send in your Bets. The betting has been running a little dry lately, so please do your best to stay consistent!**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-IVV**


	15. Caught in an Inescapable Net (D4)

Chapter 14: District 4 Reaping: **Caught In an Inescapable Net**

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District 4

* * *

Caspian pushed his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes, never taking his eyes off of his opponent. Slowly circling the perimeter of the circle that was crudely drawn in the sand beneath his feet, the tall young man sized up the much shorter, but much bulkier youth that was copying his movements on the opposite side of the circle. His name was Silvan, and he was going down. Suddenly, the shorter boy rushed forward, quickly crossing the circle and sweeping both arms in a wide arc toward Caspian. Dodging out of the way, Caspian used Silvan's momentum against him, striking with a quick kick that altered his course and sent him toward the edge of the circle with his back to his opponent. Whipping around, Silvan barely had time to block a heel kick from Caspian that would have sent him sprawling outside of the circle. Answering with a bull rush accompanied by a loud yell, Silvan knocked Caspian off of his feet and onto the wet sand, quickly jumping on top of him and shoving a forearm underneath his chin.

"You're mine, pretty boy." Silvan laughed. Twisting like an enraged crocodile, Caspian unseated Silvan for a moment, scooting a little farther underneath his opponent who immediately sat back down on Caspian's chest. "You didn't think you would get up that easy, did you?"  
"Nope." Caspian grinned. The look of confusion on Silvan's face was quickly replaced by one of surprise as Caspian brought up an unhindered leg and kicked the back of Silvan's head, sending him tumbling into the sand face first. Silvan let out a yell as Caspian pinned him in the sand, reversing the previous position of the two.

"That's not fair!" Silvan yelled, trying the same move that Caspian had used on him. As his legs were only long enough to reach Caspian's middle back, however, the results were far less fruitful. The two youths struggled for a few more minutes, their taught muscles straining against each other's, but Silvan was completely incapacitated.

"Say it," Caspian burst out, gasping heavily as Silvan renewed his attempts at escape. "Say I'm the best!"

"Never," Silvan laughed, giving one last push before giving up entirely. "Fine, you're the best, get the hell off of me." Caspian jumped off, turning around to take a bow for the benefit of the group of onlookers before helping his friend stand up.

"We have a winner!" Celeste, Caspian's girlfriend, said from where she was sitting barely in reach of the tide coming up from the sea. "Now Silvan can finally stop bragging about how tough he is." The group of friends laughed, Silvan joining in after a moment of feigned sadness.

"And you doubted me," Caspian said, joining Celeste in the water. "How could you?" He pushed her sun-kissed hair over her shoulder and started to lean in for a kiss, but Celeste put a hand on his chest and pushed him away.

"I'm sorry," she said turning her face away and laughing. "But you can't touch me when you're all gross and sweaty." Caspian immediately jumped up and pulled off his white tank top, revealing his bronzed and well-muscled frame before crashing farther into the water where he quickly disappeared beneath the waves. Swimming back toward the shore, Caspian crawled seductively through the sand toward Celeste, the sunlight glinting off of the water dripping from his body.

"Is this better?" He asked, leaning close to her. Celeste leaned back and raised her eyebrows at her friends who mirrored the look on her face. Letting out a full, throaty laugh, the beautiful blonde turned back to Caspian and kissed him, savoring the salt of the sea that was still on his lips.

"Ew, gross." Silvan burst out. "I think I'm going to hurl."

"Shut up." Caspian said, putting his arms around Celeste and pulling her up with him as he stood.

"You're just jealous." Celeste winked, throwing her arms around Caspian's neck as he carried her away from the beach. "I don't know whether you're jealous of Caspian or me, but you're definitely jealous." Silvan's cheeks flushed red as the entire group erupted in laughs and cheers and followed the two lovebirds.

* * *

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* * *

Bass stood in front of the tombstone, watching the sun reflect off of the multi-colored sea glass embedded in the rough gray stone. The name on the tombstone was Aquanetta Loraine. She had been a promising eighteen year-old tribute in training, and one of Bass's only friends. Well, they weren't exactly friends, but they had trained alongside each other, so they weren't strangers. She had been a happy girl, excited about improving herself to a level that would compete with the strongest kids in all of Panem, and wanting for nothing. Aquanetta's façade of contentment was destroyed, however, when her family woke one morning to find her body washed up on the beach next to her house. "I'm sorry," her note had said, "I can't do it, the pressure is too great." Her suicide shattered the hope of thousands of people. The entire district turned up to mourn the girl who had been widely accepted as their next victor.

Walking away from the tomb Bass cast her thoughts two years into the future, when she was expected to volunteer, carrying the hope of the entire district on her shoulders. Would she react the same way? Would she throw herself into the sea and ignore the instinct to swim to the surface?

Accelerating her walk into a brisk run, Bass continued the jog that had brought her to the tomb in the first place, flying down the beach past craggy rocks, seagulls, and a group of teenagers gathered around what appeared to be a wrestling match. Sometimes, Bass envied the carefree lives of those that weren't being forced into the Games.

Sometimes, but not often. She had been training since she was seven years old, and she could still remember the day the decision had been made like it was yesterday.

She had been sitting next to her identical twin sister, Trout, in their father's spacious sitting room. Their parents were standing in front of the girls, screaming at each other as if the two girls weren't even there.

"They should be allowed to have their own lives, Bain!" Bass's mother, Pearl, had screamed, her hand gestures growing more wild and aggressive as the argument raged on.

"You know very well that the Capitol won't let them!" Bass's father had yelled back.

"Don't be ridiculous," Pearl barked. "They have the same chance of getting reaped as _all_ the other kids in the district. In fact, they're even _less _likely, because they don't have to deal with tesserae!"

"Don't be naïve, Pearl, you don't know the Capitol like I do, they are perfectly capable of rigging the reapings to add drama to the Games."

"You just loved the feeling of being a victor. You're drunk on the glory and fame, and the only way you can get it again is to take the risk through the lives of your daughters!" The wild look in Pearl's eyes as she said this was permanently imprinted in Bass's mind, the look of someone ruled completely by their emotions.

"If you don't like the idea so much, why don't you leave?" Bain had said quietly, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper as he crossed his arms defiantly. "Oh wait, you won't, because without me, and without my fancy home in the Victor's Village, you _are_ nothing,and you _have_ nothing_. _You wouldn't leave, even if you wanted to."

"Watch me!" Pearl had screamed, her voice rising to new heights of emotion. Grabbing Trout roughly by the arm and taking her upstairs. Pearl had packed all of their things and left in less than an hour. Bass's whole life had been split in two in a single afternoon.

Training had started the same day too, and it had been as intense then as it was now, nine years later. She was, of course, forbidden from seeing her mother and sister, and was confined to the training courses for six days a week, training with her father at home on the seventh day.

As Bass passed the district square, where the reaping would be held in the evening, she saw her father talking to Misty Lybrand, the woman who had been his mentor while he was in the Games. Misty was regarded as one of the most bloodthirsty victors alive, having personally killed eleven tributes during her time in the arena. Not only was she Bass's father's mentor, however, she was also the mother of Kye Lybrand, Bass's training companion and newfound love. Trotting up onto the stage, dodging peacekeepers and film crew members along the way, Bass came up alongside Kye at his place slightly behind his mother.

"Hey, Bass, so kind of you to dress up for the reaping." He said, smiling and giving her an awkward side hug. They were still getting used to their relationship, and standing in full view of both of their parents made it worse.

"Thanks a lot," Bass said, looking down at her black tank top, short athletic shorts and running shoes. "I didn't really plan on volunteering this year, so I decided to skip the hassle of caring about how I look."

"The cameras will still be on you though," Kye said, playing with the strands of shockingly white hair that had escaped from the bun on top of Bass's head. "You _are_ a victor's daughter."

"Normally they would be, but they'll probably keep the cameras away when they see me looking like this." Bass forced a quick laugh, glancing at her father out of the corner of her eye.

"Everyone off the stage!" A crew member yelled, motioning everyone toward the crowds of people who had started to gather for the reaping.

"Excuse me?" Bain said, leaving his conversation with Kye's mother and standing in front of the man, a position that left him looking down from his considerable height.

"Everyone except you, sir, please take a seat." The man looked bored with Bain's intimidation tactics, as he had undoubtedly been exposed to them before.

Bass said a quick goodbye to Kye and waved at her dad before running to the peacekeepers table, checking in, and taking her place with the other girls.

District four didn't bother separating the children by age as other districts did, so it was more difficult for Bass to catch a glimpse of her sister in the unorganized crowd. She eventually did though, and they both smiled when they saw each other, reveling in the unauthorized contact. Though they were mirror images of each other, the two couldn't be more different. While Bass had grown up figuring out the best way to kill children between the ages of twelve and eighteen, Trout had grown up arranging dolls around tables, and having tea parties. The effect it had _had_ on the two girls was easily seen, whether it was through Bass's scars, or Trout's carefully shaped hair and nails. Bass often wondered what life would be like if her mother had taken Bass instead of Trout, would they have ended up the same, only on opposite ends of the spectrum? Would she smile, dance, and let out that tinkling laugh that made the sun seem brighter, and would Trout be the one that could hit the bull's-eye ninety-nine times out of a hundred, with any projectile she could find?

Bass's attention was grabbed as the mayor finally heaved his bulk onto the stage and began his speech. Though his considerable size made it difficult for him to stand and read without breathing heavily, the mayor was generally well liked and considered a competent head of the district. He read the treaty of treason quickly and without pause, and cleverly introduced each of the several victors that sat in the fancy, high-backed chairs lined up to his right. When he finished, the crowd clapped and cheered until he seated himself next to the victors.

Then the escort appeared.

A chill ran up Bass's spine as Spindle Gauze walked silently to center stage, pulling a microphone from behind his back and speaking into it in his cruel, snake-like voice. "Hello, district four. It's a pleasure to be back among your… beautiful people." Spindle was well-known for his dealings with the shadier side of the Capitol, arranging for "lucky" individuals to spend time in the huge city "making friends." Almost no one came back, and the ones who did were mere shells of who they had been before.

"We were _so _close to winning last year, so let's not break stride." He hissed, his laid-back tone contrasting the hungry look in his eyes as he scanned the crowd. "I sincerely wish the best for those who are picked, or volunteer, in the reaping today. Let's get started." Two groups of peacekeepers in their dress uniforms came forward; each group carrying one of the enormous bowls filled with the names of district four's children. Reaching into a bowl with each hand, Spindle lifted out two names and dismissed the peacekeepers. "The female tribute for this year's Hunger Games is Trout Shores."

The first thing that ran through Bass's mind as Trout approached the stage was that it was wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. Her family had been wrenched apart, and it had been mutually agreed upon that _Bass_ would be the one in the Hunger Games. _She _was the one who was trained. _She _was the one who was ready to kill. Not her sweet, innocent sister. Then Bass saw the look Spindle gave Trout. She saw how his long, pale fingers circled around her sister's arm, like he owned her. The smile on his face was sick and twisted, and in that moment Bass was going to do everything in her power to wipe it off of his face.

"I volunteer!" Bass yelled, taking the steps up onto the stage two at a time and pulling her sister from the man's grip. "I'll be the tribute." Looking over at her father, Bass couldn't read his expression. Was he relieved that Trout had been saved? Was he mad that Bass had volunteered two years earlier than planned?

"Well, well, well." Spindle chanted, looking Bass up and down. "The child of a victor has been volunteered for. What's your name, precious?" He tried to touch Bass too, but she slapped his hand away before he got too close.

"Bass Shores, I'm her sister." Spindle knew that, he had to know with how similarly they looked, but he had to play up the drama for the people watching all of this on television.

"Well, I'm sure you'll do fantastically in the Games." His eyes slowly slid back to the other paper in his hand. "The male tribute for this year's Hunger Games is Caspian Devon."

Bass watched a tall, good-looking seventeen year-old boy being mobbed by several of the young men around him, each one giving him a tight desperate hug on his way to the stage. A gorgeous blonde girl tore through the crowd, screaming hysterically until she was dragged back by peacekeepers. Obviously this guy was popular. As the two tributes shook hands, Bass looked into his dark brown eyes, and all she saw was shock. She didn't feel anything. This had been her choice, and she'd been waiting for this for the last nine years. The boy though, was completely surprised. He didn't blink, he barely moved, he just stared out into the crowd.

* * *

.

* * *

"These two are going to do wonderfully, don't you think?" Spindle said, his forming a satisfied, expectant look. The escort put a hand on each of the tribute's backs and led them into the building, quickly walking away from them and pulling out a miniscule communication device as soon as the doors closed behind them. "Marcia? Marcia, darling, we're going to have a fabulous year."

What was that all about?

Caspian walked into his room, watching the girl tribute do the same. She seemed so strong, and so ready. She was definitely going to be a good ally in the arena.

Celeste, Silvan, and over a dozen people piled into the room barely a minute after Caspian got there himself, each one grabbing on to him and offering him words of advice and encouragement.

"I love you," Celeste gasped desperately, squeezing the breath out of her boyfriend.

"I love you too," Caspian answered, cradling her in his arms.

"They'll like you, you know," she continued, forcing the rest of the room to quiet down so that Caspian could hear her speak. "The people in the Capitol will like you, and the careers will too. You can win this."

"I know." Caspian answered, trying to keep from laughing. He knew this was hard for her.

"You know?" The girl asked, confused.

"Yeah, I know. I'm the best, remember?" This time he let the laugh out. The rest of the people in the room started to cheer up as well, until they were all grinning. Wiping the tears off of Celeste's face, Caspian looked up and addressed the group. "Don't worry about me, guys, I'll be fine. Just try to drum up some support for me while I'm in the arena, okay?" The crowd cheered in agreement.

"Just come home, okay?" Celeste said weakly, not yet swept up in the excitement. "_Come home to me._"

"Okay, babe," Caspian smiled, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll come home to you."

And that was a promise that Caspian did _not_ intend to break.

* * *

.

* * *

Bass didn't really expect anyone to come. Her father would be mentoring her, and Kye knew this was going to happen eventually. He was probably just jealous that should was going to be a victor before he was. Then the door opened and Trout stepped in.

"Oh, Bass," Trout whispered. The two sisters embraced quickly, sitting down into the chairs facing the open window. "Thank you."

"It's okay," Bass said, realizing that even her sister's voice sounded exactly like her own.

"Bass, you can do it." Trout said, taking Bass's hand. "I've watched you train a couple of times, and I've talked to other people who have seen you. A lot of people in the district support you, so that will help too. Just stay strong, and don't trust the careers."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." Bass chuckled. It was so odd for her to hear advice on battle strategy spilling from her sweet sister's mouth.

"I want you to have this." Trout said, lifting a silver chain from around her neck. "As your token." Bass looked down at the silver dolphin-shaped charm, running her fingers over the beautiful letters engraved on the side. It was her sister's name.

"Thank you." Bass said, putting it around her own neck immediately.

As the peacekeepers led Trout out of the room Bass was growing more and more confident. This was what she had been missing. While her body and mind had been ready for years, now her heart was ready to do whatever it took to come home as the crowned victor of the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games.

* * *

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* * *

Mercedes Virgo had only been to district four once before, when she had met with Aquanetta Loraine. While she seen much of the district then, after her day of trudging around looking for eligible teenagers she could probably draw a map of the place from memory. Finding a new girl hadn't been hard as the strong, young daughter of a victor was just waiting to be reaped, but finding a boy tribute had stumped Virgo for some time. The boy she had paired with Aquanetta had predictably refused to go into the Games after his friend's untimely death, threatening to ruin the plan if he was reaped, and there hadn't been any other obvious choices. There had been another victor's son of course, but no one would believe that so many victors' children would get reaped without someone having a hand in it. Then she had stumbled, completely by chance, upon an interesting sight on the beach; a suitable young man wrestling with his friends. He would work perfectly.

His reaction hadn't been the best during the reaping, but after a few words with Spindle Gauze and the boy's mentor, Virgo was sure he would change his tune once he was in the Capitol.

Yes, Virgo thought, leaning back in the enormous fluffy chair she had _insisted_ be put aboard the discreet Capitol vessel sailing away from district four, she had handled all the little hiccups in her plan perfectly. From where she was sitting, there was very little trouble on the horizon. She was about to direct a _flawless_ Hunger Games that not even President Snow himself could criticize.

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**A/N**

**And there it is! The last reaping! I'm going to post a couple of Train Rides chapters (6 districts each) and then we'll get to Chariots and Training. I can't wait to start writing the interactions between the tributes.**

**Until then, since ALL of the wonderful tributes have been revealed, this is a perfect time to make sure you have all of your Bets in, and to recheck my blog to see if there are any poll questions to answer.**

**You guys are the best, thanks so much for the reviews!**

**-IVV**


	16. Tracks to the Capitol: Part 1

**Train Rides: Part 1**

* * *

District 1

**Tributes**: Bliss Sparks (18) and Isis Carlisle (18)

**Escort**: Claire Desmonte

**Mentors**: Gold Sparks and Velvet Blot

* * *

Bliss looked around at the finery displayed in the train car and immediately rolled his eyes. While the Capitol had spared no expense, they apparently hadn't bothered with an interior decorator. Each of the priceless decorations would have been fabulous in the right setting, but in the senseless jumble they were in now they looked like cheap imitations at a yard sale.

Tossing himself onto one of the sofas arranged in front of the diamond-inlaid television, Bliss stretched out his legs and closed his eyes just as Isis walked in, followed by the district escort.

"Would you mind moving your legs, your highness?" Isis said, staring disapprovingly at Bliss's relaxed position.

"Would you mind sitting in the chair?" Bliss said with a smile, not bothering to open his eyes. "And don't feel the need to address me as your highness, we're all friends here." Isis snorted in disgust and plopped down on Bliss's legs, forcing him to drag them out from under her and adjust to a sitting position.

"Play nice, children." Clair Desmonte said, looking back at both of them pointedly from the mirror she was using to touch up her makeup. "You two are going to need to stick together if either of you want to win."

"That's right." Gold Sparks, Bliss's uncle, said, stepping into the room from another car. "A divided district one has only won the Games once before, and it was an accident." Bliss and Isis looked away from the former victor and directed their gaze to each other, a moment passed before both gave a curt nod of agreement. "Good," Gold said, easing himself into a chair that seemed to be very familiar to him.

"It's nice to see you again, Ms. Desmonte," Gold said, causing a bout of excessive preening from the woman.

"Oh, Gold," she giggled, "It's always nice to see you. How long have we been doing this again? Time seems to fly by so quickly these days."

"Twelve wonderful years, and you're as beautiful as ever," he answered, flashing a smile and winking at Claire.

"Oh stop!" She exclaimed, playfully fanning herself with a silk kerchief that she slipped from a concealed pocket.

"Yes," Isis interrupted. "Please stop." Claire's smile vanished.

"Yes, of course, you're perfectly right." She said, hurrying to the television and turning it on to reveal the beginning of Bliss and Isis's reaping. "This isn't about _us,_ it's about _you!_"

"And more specifically, me." Bliss said, flashing a grin at Isis. The girl reached up and slapped him, turning his face back to the screen.

"You wish."

When the reapings had finished, Bliss sat smiling at the blank screen, ecstatic with the team that would be formed.

"You look happy," Velvet said smugly.

"Well why wouldn't I?" Bliss burst out. His wide eyes and blinding grin made him look like a little boy. "This is the best year for careers I've ever seen!"

"What about you, Isis," Velvet prompted, nudging the quiet girl. "What do you think of the competition."

"I think we should be worried," Isis said, much to the surprise of the rest of the group.

"Why?" Gold asked for all of them.

"Well, for one, the girl from two is arrogant and she's going to be terrible to deal with. The boy from two isn't prepared to pull the weight the boys in his shoes usually do, and both from four will probably get along well together. They're probably going to challenge our leadership, and if that happens _we _become the expendable ones." Bliss looked like he didn't understand what she was saying, but Gold and Velvet were both nodded as she continued. "These, of course, are all problems that arise if we don't get anyone else in the alliance. If we pick someone from an outlying district, who knows what kind of damage they could do."

"So you think we're going to lose?" Bliss confirmed, his eyebrows knit together in concentration.

"No," Isis said. "I just think we should watch our step."

* * *

District 7

**Tributes**: Chase Rige (12) and Rhia Davis (17)

**Escort**: Supple Brittlebee

**Mentor**: Maple Davis

* * *

Rhia sat in a seat across from Chase, watching the small boy devour various delicacies at a speed that spoke of his starved upbringing.

"It's all so good!" Chase said, his eyes still red from crying. "You should try some, Rhia!"

"No thanks." Rhia said quietly. Chase shrugged and continued his unplanned meal, oblivious to his partners penetrating eyes.

How was he so full of hope when the chances of him getting home were nonexistent? Rhia wondered. Not only that, but if she wanted to get home herself, would she have to be the one who killed this innocent boy? The boy who was oblivious to the bits of jelly-filled pastry in his hair, and the cream ringing his mouth?

Rhia looked toward the other side of the train and saw her mother seated by Supple Brittlebee, picking at a plate of food and engaging in quiet conversation. They hadn't seemed to have much advice for the two tributes when they first boarded the train, but that was fine with Rhia. She'd heard enough from her mother to last a lifetime.

"Look, kid." Rhia said, waiting until he stopped eating to continue. "My mom isn't well, so no matter what she says to you, don't listen, okay?"

"She seems fine to me." The boy said, confused. He looked over Rhia's shoulder at Maple, but nothing seemed wrong with her. "What's wrong?"

"She… didn't like the Games very much." Rhia answered after a brief pause. "She will probably say some very mean things to you, but you just have to pretend like she's not there, okay? And if she ever hits you, call for the peacekeepers."

"Okay," Chase said weakly, fear quickly replacing the previously unflagging hope in his eyes.

Rhia couldn't take this anymore. She had to stop herself from caring.

"Rhia?" Chase asked, pushing the food around the edge of the plate in front of him. "Are you going to be in an alliance?"

"I'm going to try," Rhia answered. In fact, she should probably be going over the reapings right now to see just whom her alliance would be with. She stood up to leave before turning and asking, "Why does it matter?"

"Well, I was just wondering…" the boy's voice dropped off and he looked down at his plate as if he was embarrassed. "Would you want to be allies with me?" Rhia pictured the little boy surrounded by the tall, imposing figures of the career pack. No, that was never going to happen. He didn't have anything to bring to the table.

"We'll see." She answered, picking up an exquisitely decorated sweet roll and moving to the sofa. She needed space. Spending time with this boy would only make it harder in the arena.

* * *

District 2

**Tributes**: Slater O'Brien (16) and Athene Harbrick (16)

**Escort**: Indie Ifrit

**Mentors**: Cage Mane and Alice Quarry

* * *

Slater stopped in the doorway of the train, amazed by the magnificent show of wealth. It was amazing how the—

"Move!" Athene grunted, pushing Slater up against the wall on her way into the train.

Slater growled, pushing himself off of the wall and following her. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"I'm sorry," Athene shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"No," Slater said defensively. "I'm just sick of you pushing me around all the time."

"Well, you'd better get used to it," Athene said, walking toward a group of plush seats. "That's what happens when little brats try to play with the big kids."

"You are an arrogant little witch, you know that?" Slater yelled after her, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"Listen up," Athene barked, turning on her heels and crossing the distance between them in quick strides. "_I_ am the one that the trainers picked to be in the Games this year, _you _are not. The other kids from one and four will know that too, and you know what that means?"

"No," Slater said insolently, trying to brush past her. "What does it mean?"

"It means," Athene said, grabbing his arm as he passed and sending him crashing onto the floor of the train. "That the only reason you will even be _in_ the career pack is if _I _tell them you should be." Kneeling down on Slater's back and beating back his frantic attempts at escape, Athene pulled a knife out of her back pocket and slid it carefully across his neck, feeling every muscle in his body stiffen as he held perfectly still.

"You are _mine_, Slater O'Brien." She hissed through gritted teeth. "When I say move, you _move. _When I say fight, you _fight._ Because if I say die?" Athene brought the knife down hard, stabbing it into the floor an inch from Slater's face. "You _die._"

The door to the next train car slid open, admitting the district two mentors. Eyeing the two tributes and putting together what had just happened, Cage Mane smiled and clapped, giving a respectful nod to Athene. "Alice," he said, looking over his shoulder at the tall, bored looking woman entering behind him. "I call the girl this year."

"You must be Athene?" Cage asked, shaking her hand and gesturing her to a seat.

"Yes, sir," she said, sitting down and crossing her legs. Athene raised a mocking eyebrow as Slater pushed away the hand Alice had offered to help him up. "You made a good choice."

"I think so too," Cage answered, smiling cruelly.

Slater stalked away from the pair of them, punching the button to open the door and escaping into the adjacent train car. Bursting into the dining car, Slater upended the fully set table, sending forks, knives, and platters flying around the entire car. What right did she have to treat him like that? To humiliate him in front of the mentors? She was a wicked creature from the pit, and it took everything in Slater not to walk back in there and put his hands around her little neck. Slater whirled around as the door opened, admitting Alice Quarry. "What do you want?" he shouted. She was no doubt horrified that she was stuck with the 'weak one.'

"Slater, you have to control yourself." Alice said, eyeing the disheveled state of the room. "You don't owe anything to her, and no matter what she says, the moment you step into the arena, you're equals."

"Yeah right," Slater said, still trying to control his anger. "She is out to get me, I don't know why, but she is, and I can't do anything about it. I'll be lucky to survive the bloodbath."

"Look," Alice said, brushing the broken glass off of a chair before sitting down. "You're going to survive the bloodbath, don't even worry about that. No matter how much she hates you, you're still an asset and her strategy training will override her emotions. Worrying about her constantly will only serve to hurt your chances so just stop right now."

"I was the weak one," Alice confessed. "I know the Capitol broadcasts paint a very different picture, but it's not true. I wasn't 'biding my time' I was scared to death. The boy from one was the size of a mountain, and everyone thought he was going to win. He was arrogant though, and he took on the rest of us all at once. He died and cleared the way for me to become the victor. If I'm not mistaken, Ms. Harbrick is walking down the same road. If you can cause enough dissension in the ranks, she won't stand a chance."

"You really think so?" Slater asked, taking a seat as well.

"I do," she answered. "And I'll be working for _you_ Slater. No matter what he thinks, Cage is betting on the wrong horse this year."

"Promise me one thing," Slater said his mismatched eyes staring intently at his mentor.

"What?"

"I get to be the one that kills her." Alice smiled. That was exactly what she wanted to hear. Her answer was simple.

"That can be arranged."

* * *

District 8

**Tributes**: Aden Hanran (18) and Colleen Reyna (16)

**Escort**: Vinette Channard

**Mentor**: Emilys Hatch

* * *

They had already spent a day on the train, racing at excessive speeds on their way toward the Capitol, and Colleen still couldn't stop shaking. They all sat around a table eating breakfast, the escort and mentor on one side of the table and Collen and Aden on the other, the fork in Colleen's hand tapping erratically against the crystal plate.

"Cols," Aden finally said, reaching over and laying a gentle hand on her wrist.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, putting the fork down but keeping Aden's hand on hers.

"You know," their mentor, Emilys Hatch, said, politely wiping her face with one of the beautifully embroidered napkins. "I can't help but notice that you seem to be a little nervous, dear."

Emilys Hatch was a studious, aging woman, as well as the victor of the fifth Hunger Games. Capitol programming never spoke of that year, due to its sudden ending, so Aden had inquired after what had happened. All Emilys had said was, "There was a storm, dear. I won quite by accident."

"Well, she has good reason to be nervous, they _are_ about to die in a week or so." Vinette said, leaving long, purple smudges of mascara on the napkin she used to wipe the tears from her eyes. "It's so _sad._"

"Oh, stop that." Emilys said, frowning at the emotional escort. "They are _not _going to die in a week. I am going to make sure they make it to the final eight if I die trying!" Colleen gave a weak, appreciative smile.

"That's good to hear." Aden said, squeezing Colleen's hand.

"I feel like we should start talking strategy now," Emilys said. "Just to help build confidence."

"Good idea." Colleen and Vinette said in unison, looking at each other oddly when they were done speaking.

"What did the both of you do back in eight?" Emilys asked, looking back and forth between the two tributes.

"I worked in a textile factory." Colleen said.

"And I was a… group leader of sorts." Aden said, prompting an uncharacteristic outburst of laughter from Colleen.

"Should I ask what this is about?" Emilys asked, confused.

"No, probably not." Aden said, smiling at Colleen who was trying and failing to stem the laughter.

"Okay, well, I think I know what strategy we will go with this year." Emilys said, pushing her plate toward Vinette and folding her hands on the table in front of her. "You are going to make an alliance." Colleen and Aden looked at each other, a possibility of hope in their eyes.

"Go on," Aden said.

"The careers will be forming their own team, naturally," Emilys said. "However, they are prideful, and will undoubtedly overlook some useful talents that could be put to good use in the arena. _Your_ job is to find those talents, and get them to join an alliance with you. You two are likeable enough, and the fact that you are a group leader should help, yes?"

"Yeah, I think we can make that work." Aden answered.

"Great," Emilys said, standing up and walking toward the door to a car dedicated to the television screen that took up an entire wall. "We should probably take a look at the reapings then, just so we know what we have to work with."

"Incredible." Vinette sobbed, gathering all of the plates together as the others stood up to leave, and quickly finishing the food that they had left. "Could there still be hope in the midst of this tragedy?" Colleen gave her an awkward pat on the back before following Aden into the screening room.

The first two districts were predictably frightening, but while Colleen's faith in their plan was starting to fade as she saw the career tributes, Aden's attitude was the polar opposite.

"Did you see the two who had their places taken?" He asked, wide eyed. "The girl from one and the boy from two? If they had made it in we would have had _no _chance."

"That's true." Emilys agreed. "Not only that, but the other two tributes will resent the newcomers for taking away that advantage. That might be something you could exploit." Colleen looked between the two of them, surprised. Did they not see the tributes that they _did _have to deal with?

"Whoa." Aden exclaimed, watching the girl from district three walk on stage. Colleen immediately slapped her hand over his eyes. "What?" He asked, trying to push her hands away.

"She's indecent, Aden." Colleen said, frustrated. This put an end to his protests.

"She may be indecent," Emilys commented, putting a few notes down in a small binder. "But she will get sponsors, and that could come in handy." Colleen huffed, sinking lower into the sofa cushions.

"Well, I still don't want her in the alliance."

District four was just as frightening, if not more so, than one and two, and while Emilys encouraged Aden and Colleen to try to get them in an alliance, it was agreed that they would undoubtedly be in the career pack no matter what the two had to say. District five was uneventful, though Colleen pointed out the complete lack of emotion in both of the sibling's faces, and after the blind girl from six was reaped, the group didn't say a word until the reapings ended.

"Well," Emilys asked, scanning her notes. "Who do you want?"

"The girl from seven, both from nine," Aden listed off. "The girl from ten, and the boy from six."

"Good choices for your first impression," Emilys said after waiting unnecessarily for Colleen to add something. "However, don't make your final list until you see everyone in training. You never know who will surprise you." The two nodded. She might not have the most to offer from her own Games, but having been a part of the last fort-three Games had undoubtedly taught her many valuable lessons that they were glad to take advantage of.

"One last thing," the aging woman called before they left. "Remember, forming alliances doesn't start in training, it starts at the chariots. As soon as you're trussed up in your ridiculous outfits, the Games begin."

* * *

District 3

**Tributes**: Cable Kelvin (15) and Scarlette Blake (17)

**Escort**: Pearlie Portia

**Mentors**: Buzz Rorik and Margaret Plexigon

* * *

Scarlette's eyes swept over the exquisite room, halting on the pale, gloomy form of her district partner.

"Oh," she exclaimed, laughing off her surprise. "I didn't see you there." Walking into the room, Scarlette perched herself on a low divan draped in turquoise velvet, stretching her long legs out into the room. Cable looked purposefully out of the window, keeping his eyes away from the sight of Scarlette in her skimpy dress. Several minutes of awkward silence had gone by when Pearlie swayed into the room, looking both of the tributes over before cursing and snatching a decanter of brandy off of a nearby tray. Tipping the decanter back, Pearlie took an enormous swig of the alcohol before barging past Cable on the way to the next train car. As she passed the boy however, Scarlette couldn't help but notice how he brought his hands around his middle, as if to protect something.

And there it was. When his arms reverted to their normal position, the corner of a piece of paper was sticking out of his shirt. The older girl immediately left her place and sat at the table across from the sullen boy, smiling and looking him in the eye.

"How was it for you?" she asked quietly, slowly combing her fingers through her hair. "Seeing your family before we left?" Cable cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly, cementing Scarlette's knowledge that he was hiding something important.

"It was hard," Cable said, trying but failing to meet her tender gaze. "Harder than I thought." Scarlette reached her hand across the table and touched his own, nodding as if to agree.

"Yeah, it was hard for me too," she lied, looking out of the window longingly. "My parents and siblings all took turns crying and giving advice, I almost didn't make it to the train."

"Scarlette," Cable said, drawing his hand away from hers.

"Oh, just call me Scar," she interrupted, flashing a quick smile.

"Okay," he said. "Do you think we have a chance? Either of us?"

"Of course." She said, winking conspiratorially. "Everyone underestimates district three, but we've both got something up our sleeves, don't we?" Cable swallowed hard, crossing his arms to cover his secret.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"My mom was so sweet," Scar said, conjuring up the appearance of feelings that she had definitely never associated with her mother. "She kept talking about how I was a quick learner, and that I could pick up all the necessary skills in training."

Cable looked at her, confused. What was she trying to say?

"What about your family," Scar said leaning forward again. "Did they give you any… advice?"

Oh. "No," Cable muttered, standing and holding his arm awkwardly at waist height in order to keep his prize covered. "Sorry, I have to go, I think I'm going to try and get some sleep." Scar watched the boy walk out of the train car, and toward the adjacent car that held the bedrooms. She smiled. He knew something, of that she was sure, and even if he was committed to hiding it, he wouldn't be able to resist her forever.

* * *

District 9

**Tributes**: Kayn Topekh (18) and Tanita Humbrid (17)

**Escort**: Clementine Popper

**Mentor**: Anna Topekh

* * *

Tanita knew she was alone. That puffed up loser was probably too arrogant to speak to her, and his mother wasn't going to be giving her an ounce of help any time soon. The only other person around was Clementine, and she was an airhead. Yes, Tanita was alone, but that only meant her victory would be _that _much sweeter.  
"You must have been pretty wealthy." The boy said, what was his name again? Kayn?

"Why do you say that?" Tanita scoffed.

"Well, you're just not— Kayn tried to finish his sentence, but he couldn't really explain what he meant.

"I'm not what?" Tanita questioned, her sarcasm as clear as day. "Dying of starvation?"

"Yeah," Kayn agreed. "You're not skinny like all of the other girls."

"So you're calling me _fat_?" Tanita smirked.

"No!" Kayn exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise. How could he be so stupid? "I'm not saying that at all, you just seem… well fed."

"Well fed? That's the best you could do?" What an idiot.

"I'm sorry," Kayn sighed. "I sound like an idiot." Tanita grunted in agreement, crossing her arms defiantly as Kayn continued. "I think I'm going to try for the career pack."

"Surprise, surprise." Tanita muttered.

"The thing is," Kayn said, going on before she could leave. "I think you should to."

"What?!" Tanita yelled, genuinely surprised.

"You're tough, and you're intimidating," Kayn said. "You're big too, definitely taller than me, and probably taller than most of the careers. If you're not with them, you'll be a target. You should join." Tanita stood, rising to her full height and looming over Kayn who was still in his seat.

"I'm sorry, but _I _am not a traitorous rat." She spat out, her lips curling back from her teeth. "I will not play around with your little cake-eating friends just to save my own skin. All the success in my life has come from _me_, _my_ hard work, not from hoping other people will do the work for me. Besides, they'd stab me in the back as soon as it was convenient, and you know it. That's not how I'm going to die." Tanita whipped her hair around and stomped away to her room, calling back over her shoulder. "You can go ahead and tell your little friends that if they come after me, they'd better be ready to fight like hell."

Kayn watched her go, jumping up as she shoved Clementine to the ground on the way past. Kayn ran over and helped her up, wincing as her claws dug into his arm. "Are you okay?" he asked, picking up her daily planner and handing it back to her.

"Oh, I'm fine," she tittered, snatching the planner with surprising vehemence. "Thank you so much, young man." The small woman walked over to a high-backed chair that sat next to a great mirror and sat down to adjust her hair, checking and rechecking her makeup obsessively.

"By the way, Ms. Popper." Kayn said, taking a seat next to her. "I've been meaning to talk to you about the reaping."

"Oh?" she asked, her hand trembling for a moment before she continued reapplying her lipstick. "What could there possibly be to talk about?"

"I saw you, you and the mayor. I know you rigged the reaping." Kayn watched her reaction. Her head whipped around and there was such a look of shock on her face that Kayn's conviction faltered. Maybe he had been wrong.

"That's ridiculous," she exclaimed. "In fact, I feel slightly insulted young man. You know very well that the rules of the reaping forbid such a thing."

"I was so sure I saw the mayor hand you Tanita's name."

"You must be mistaken," she said, taking a handful of some kind of dried fruit from an end table and popping them into her mouth in twos and threes. "He did no such thing. Besides, I pulled her name out of the bowl. I didn't pull it out of my pocket!"

"That's what it looked like to the district, and the screens," Kayn said holding her eyes with his own. "But I was behind you. I saw you switch it out on your way to the microphone."

"Stop that right now, it's simply unthinkable." The woman was getting more and more relaxed as the conversation went on, and Kayn couldn't help but think that she was playing her role a little _too_ well. Nobody reacted so predictably to being accused like this.

"Clementine." Kayn said threateningly, taking a page from Tanita's book and standing up. "I know you did it, I just want to know why. You have nothing to worry about, I'm not going to tell anyone."

"That's right you're not going to tell anyone," the woman said, her mask falling to reveal a cool, relaxed woman underneath. "I have friends in high places, and if you tell anyone you won't survive a _minute_ in the Games, do you understand me?" Kayn backed away from the woman as she stood and sneered at him. "You have meddled in things that are _far _above your concern, young man. So drop it." The escort was the second woman to stomp out of the dining car, slamming the button to close the door so hard that the small light bulb inside shattered, flickering sadly before going out completely.

Kayn was sitting with his feet up, drinking a glass of ice water when his mother walked in. "Are you number three?" he asked sarcastically, chuckling under his breath.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned in her quiet, controlled voice.

"Oh, never mind, what is it?"

"Did she agree?"

"No. Apparently she's morally opposed to the idea."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah."

"It may serve a purpose though." His mother's words sparked Kayn's interest.

"What?" he asked, sitting up.

"I just got off of the phone with Emilys Hatch, she's mentoring district eight."

"Okay?"

"They want Tanita."

"And you're going to sell her to them."

"I am."

* * *

**A/N**

**Here's the first train rides! I can't wait to start training, so I'll try to get the next chapter out ASAP.**

**Anyway, let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the character development/portrayal. **

**Surprisingly, I hit an interesting kind of roadblock with the mentors. I wanted Emilys (D8) to be an old lady, but then I realized, the oldest she could possibly be was 66. Which counted her being eighteen and winning the very first Games. Dangit. Haha**

**Also, you may have realized that Beetee and Wiress did not make appearances as the district 3 mentors. I am operating under the assumption that Wiress won somewhere between the 54th and the 60th Games, and that Beetee won a few years before her.**

**Thank you for your time! (And Reviews!)**

**-IVV**


	17. Tracks to the Capitol: Part 2

**Train Rides: Part 2**

* * *

**District 4**

**Tributes:** Caspian Devon (17) and Bass Shores (16)

**Escort:** Spindle Gauze

**Mentors:** Bain Shores and Misty Lybrand

* * *

Bass woke up slowly, her eyes opening to find that she was not in her bedroom. Sitting up quickly, she did her best to take in her surroundings. Dark wood on the walls, blue satin furniture, and the landscape visible through small, circular windows whipping past at incredible speeds reminded her that she was on the train, and in the viewing room. What was she doing in here?

"Oh good, you're up." Bass turned. The words had come from a smiling Caspian who was poking his head through the doorway from the dining car. "We waited to start breakfast."

"Thanks," Bass said, standing up and letting a chenille blanket fall from her lap and onto the floor. Where did that come from? Walking the length of the room, Bass walked past Caspian and sat down at the table, staring at the steaming dishes and taking a deep whiff. Delicious. Caspian came and took the seat next to her and they both piled their plates high with food, mirroring the movements of their mentors who sat at the other end of the long, polished table next to the Spindle.

"How did you sleep?" Spindle asked, his crooked smile revealing small, uniform teeth.

"Fine?" Bass answered, averting his gaze. The escort gave her the creeps, making avoiding him one of her biggest objectives up until the Games started. "Why was I in the viewing car?" she asked, looking at her father before realizing that Caspian was going to answer that question.

"You fell asleep while we were watching past reapings," he said with laughter in his eyes. "It took everything in me to get out from under you and get to my room."

"_Under_ me?" Bass asked, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Yeah, well, you kind of slumped over when you fell asleep." Caspian gave his signature easy, musical laugh and went back to eating, mercifully choosing not to acknowledge the blush that had crept into his partners cheeks.

"Well," Misty said, frowning at Bass from the other end of the table. "I guess we don't need to waste time forcing you two to get to know each other." Of course, she had a right to be critical, Bass _was _supposed to be dating her son, but it had been a harmless accident. Besides, Caspian had someone back in district four too, and Bass wasn't any competition for her.

After breakfast, Bass and Caspian sat down in a small sitting room with several large bundles of paper; information on their future career pack.

"Bliss Sparks?" Caspian said disbelievingly, showing Bass the district one boy. "Is that seriously his name?" Bass laughed.

"That's how all of them are named there," she said, flipping through the boy from two's file. "It's not _that _bad."

"Are you kidding me?" Caspian said, directing his incredulous gaze from the boy's profile to Bass.

"Okay," she said, giving in. "It _is _pretty bad, but remember, you're talking to a girl named after a fish." Caspian burst out laugh, slipping off out of his seat and landing on the thick rug that covered most of the plush room. His accident only made him laugh harder, and Bass couldn't keep herself from joining in. Finally, after several minutes of trying to compose themselves, they returned to looking through the files.

"The girl from two is crazy good," Bass said. "It says here that she gave her trainer a serious concussion on her last day, and they weren't even using weapons, they were fighting hand to hand."

"Dang," Caspian moaned. "I call not having to deal with her."

"Agreed," Bass sighed. "Whatever happens, I think it would be best to stay out of her way and let her work things out with district one as much as possible."

"What about the boy from two?" Caspian asked, picking up the file that Bass had already read. "Will he be the same?"

"I don't think so," she answered. "At least I hope not. That would not be good for us."

"What do you think about district one? Mr. Bliss and Ms. Carlisle." Caspian asked, grinning when he said the boy's unusual name.

"Honestly, it's hard to tell just from their stats," Bass confessed, tossing the last file onto the pile and falling backwards onto the couch she had been perched on the edge of. "We'll just have to wait until we meet them to find out."

"Which will be the chariot rides," Caspian mused. "Why is it that the first time we meet the other kids we're all trussed up like Christmas trees?" Bass snorted a laugh.

"They probably do it to keep us from respecting each other," she said, sitting up to look at Caspian. "And the sad thing is, it sort of works." Caspian laughed and stood up to arrange the files on the table into a neat stack.

"That reminds me," Bass continued. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What?" Caspian asked, matching her serious tone.

"Caspian," she said. "I don't really know how to say this but… you need to start gaining weight."

"Excuse me?!"

"Look at you," Bass said, struggling to keep the laughter down. "Let's be honest, the moment the stylists see you we'll be stripped down to nothing and draped in fish net. I don't want to be paraded around like that, do you?" Caspian let out a sigh of relief when he noticed she was joking.

"You're right," he agreed. "I better get to work covering all this up."

At that moment, Bass looked up and jumped, every muscle in her body tensing up as she noticed Spindle Gauze.

"I'm sorry," he smiled. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Dude, you're a sneaky little fella, aren't you?" Caspian said, laughing away his own shock at seeing the shady escort in the room with them. "What do you want?"

"I just thought you might want to look out the window."

"Why?" Bass asked, watching Caspian move to the window and look out.

"Bass, come see this," he said, waving her over. Bass stood and walked to the window, standing next to Caspian looking out on the most incredible sight she had seen since she had been caught in a storm at sea.

It was the Capitol.

The vast city was hundreds, if not thousands times bigger than the biggest town in district four, and the wealth that flowed freely within its walls was evident, even from the distance the train was still at from the station. With its gleaming silver buildings reaching ever higher into the sky, the Capitol seemed to long for status among the stars, pining to be considered their equal in both beauty and grandeur.

"It's amazing," Bass said, completely stunned.

"It's enormous," Caspian added, his eyes staring unblinking at the city.

"Yes," Spindle purred. "And it can all be yours."

* * *

**District 10**

**Tributes:** Andelin Brown (14) and Bandit Lee Highland (16)

**Escort:** Magnus Magenta

**Mentors:** Cliff Wright and Ramona Fowler

* * *

Bandit missed her home already. The stylish, modern decor of the Capitol train seemed cold and impersonal compared to the warm, familiar sights and smells that she associated with her family's ranch home.

She was sitting on her bed, the many layers of blankets piled around her to create a nest of warmth and comfort. "You should come out of your room," they said. "You should eat with us, talk with your mentors, and get to know your district partner." The truth was Bandit didn't want to get to know Andelin. He was too infatuated with the Capitol, too oblivious to what was being done to them.

"Hello?" Ramona Fowler called, stepping respectfully into the room.

"Go away," Bandit said, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I just wanted to talk to you," the young woman said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "About what you're going through."

"Why?" Bandit asked. "You don't care."

"I _do _care, Bandit," the girl's mentor said. "I was in your shoes only three years ago."

"I can't do this!" Bandit suddenly cried. "I can't win, which means I'm going to die, and I don't get to be with my family, I don't get to be at home, I get to be murdered for everyone in Panem to see."

"Why don't you think you can win?" Ramona asked, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

"Oh, come on," Bandit choked out. "Do I look like I have a chance?"

"Yes, actually, you do." Ramona answered. "You're in about the same place that I was when I was reaped, but you're definitely prettier, that's a plus."

"Don't make me laugh."

"I'm not trying to. I understand that you're not confident with your chances yet, but I've met a few batches of tributes. That kind of fear doesn't keep you in your room. There's something else bothering you, isn't there?" Bandit took a deep, shaky breath.

"Okay," she said, sitting up. "What if you're right, what if I can win. How could I forgive myself? How could I go home and look my family in the eye, when all they will see is the blood on my hands?" Ramona was silent, her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window, seeing nothing.

"You mind your own business," she said, wiping away the tears that had started to form in her own eyes. "You stick to yourself, and you try to forget."

"How does that help?" Bandit asked. "The weak person that refuses to kill other tributes never wins."

"No, they usually don't win," Ramona admitted. "But the person who asserts herself and is ready to defend her own life very often does." Bandit gave one last shuddering breath.

"Well then," she said, kicking away some of the blankets. "I'd better start asserting myself."

Andelin stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His face was pale, painted white, and his eyelashes were elongated to the point that keeping his eyes all the way open was a frustrating chore. "I look like a girl," the boy laughed, looking in the mirror at Magnus Magenta, who was standing behind him looking amused.

"No," Magnus sighed. "You just look different from your idea of what a man should look like." Taking an eyedropper from a tray loaded with other forms of cosmetics, the older man dripped two drops of a clear, skin-tingling liquid on Andelin's face. "The people in the Capitol will want to see _you _though, the quaint boy from district ten, so rub that stuff around and get that makeup off of your face." Andelin watched as Magnus left the room, trying to copy the movements that he had seen the escort use on himself the night before. He hadn't exactly been supposed to be watching, but he had wanted to see the man without the Capitol exterior on. The transformation was an odd thing to behold, and it left Andelin even more in awe of the Capitol mindset.

After finally getting the last of the pale cream out of his skin, Andelin plucked off the eyelashes and walked out of the bathroom. The girl, Bandit, was sitting at a table, picking at a pile of fruit.

"Oh, I'm glad you're up!" Andelin said, trying to copy Magnus's relaxed, effortless tone of voice.

"Thank you?" Bandit said, looking oddly at the boy. "What's wrong with your eyes?" Andelin raced to the bathroom and inspected himself in the mirror. Was the eyeliner really that noticeable? He quickly rubbed it off, but took the slim bottle off of Magnus's tray and slipped it into his pocket on the way out.

"Sorry, I guess I must have wiped something on my face," Andelin admitted, hurrying past her on his way to join the mentors and Magnus.

"Why would you want to be like him?" Bandit asked, stopping him mid-stride.

"Because he's perfect," Andelin said matter-of-factly. "He's rich, happy, and popular. Why wouldn't I want to be like him?" Bandit shrugged and went back to the bowl of cherries that she was slowly and methodically demolishing.

"Whatever floats your boat, I guess," she said, spitting a cherry pit into a smaller glass bowl.

* * *

**District 5**

**Tributes:** Andrew Feller (15) and Grace Feller (15)

**Escort:** Sissy Fracille

**Mentors:** Norman Ray, Georgia Parks

* * *

"So, honey, what is _your _favorite thing to do?" Sissy sat with her hip pressed against Andrew's, her arm draped over the back of his seat.

"Leave," Grace said, quietly and without any inflection in her tone.

"Well aren't _we _the polite little lady," Sissy mocked. "Just let him have some fun."

"Leave," Grace repeated.

"Well, fine!" Sissy huffed; shooting to her feet and walking ten feet away to another, separate sitting area.

Andrew looked at Grace and gave a small smile that served as a thank you, and an unspoken witty remark on the situation.

Norman and Georgia walked up to the two tributes and sat down across from them. "Okay, we need to start talking strategy." Georgia said quickly, her fellow mentor nodding wildly. "I'm guessing you two will want to work together?" Grace and Andrew nodded. "Okay, were you planning to ally with anyone else?" Andrew shook his head. The excited woman went on, un-phased by their lack of verbal communication. "No? Okay, good, the sibling team, I can sell that."

"Let's talk sponsors," Norman butted in, firing off questions like bullets. "Do you have any strengths you can play to that will make them want to support you?" The two looked at each other for a moment before turning back to Norman and shrugging. "Nonverbal communication? I'm all over it, people will eat that up."

"Are you planning on being survivalists?" Georgia asked, interrupting Norman's next question. "Or hunters?" There was no answer; not a single word, or the tiniest movement. "Okay, you're not sure, we'll see where circumstances take you." The two mentors were using a small, hand-held machine that was most likely a voice recorder, tossing it to each other or wrenching it from the other's hands when they were ready to ask a new question.

"How are you planning on dealing with the career problem?" Norman asked.

"Someone else will most likely take care of them for us." Grace said, much to the shame of Georgia who had neglected to press the record button, not expecting either tribute to speak.

"Could you say that again?" the woman asked wildly, shoving the recorder into the younger girl's face.

"Someone else will most likely take care of them for us."

"Good, good," Norman said, biting his lower lip. "Oh, I've got one, what's your plan for training? Any specific areas you will work on?"

"Camouflage," Andrew said.

"Nice!" Georgia squealed. "The sponsors will _love _that."

"Okay," Norman said, standing up and smiling at them. "That's all we need for now, thank you very much! I'm sure we'll talk later." The two mentors hurried away from the tributes, their heads bent together as they discussed strategy.

There was a long pause during which both brother and sister stared at the two past victors, the silence finally broken as Grace spoke. "I feel like I've been hit by a tornado."

* * *

**District 11**

**Tributes:** Till Umber (17) and Lannah Woolks (16)

**Escort:** Shining Brass

**Mentors:** Chaff Lerman and Seeder Pots

* * *

Lannah walked back and forth in the train car that was at the end of the train. She wasn't used to being cooped up in an air-conditioned atmosphere, and so was growing restless as her legs itched to actually go somewhere, to travel along a dusty road and feel the sun. She never thought she would miss the heat of district eleven, but she would definitely prefer it to this lukewarm temperature. It felt like limbo. Looking out one of the large windows, Lannah marveled at the different landscapes they had already passed on their way to the Capitol. She had never seen mountains before, and even the little hills they had passed had amazed the girl. Suddenly Lannah noticed someone's reflection in the glass and she spun around, gasping loudly. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "It's just you."

Till walked slowly into the room. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't know you were in here."

"This is the best room on the whole train," Lannah said, smiling. "It has the biggest windows, so you can pretend like you're outside." Till laughed, prompting a puzzled expression from his fellow tribute.

"Oh, you weren't kidding?" he asked, quickly stifling the laughter.

"No, I wasn't," Lannah said, her smile faltering.

"It just seemed like a silly comment, like something a kid would say, that's all."

"Oh, thanks." Lannah said, genuinely grateful. After a day on the train, the two had grown used to each other. Till hadn't been thrilled to spend time with Lannah, but it was a choice between her and the district escort, Shining Brass. He chose Lannah.

"How did your talk with Seeder go?" Lannah asked, trying to fill the silence.

"It was fine," Till said. While the male victor usually would have mentored him, Chaff Lerman, the twenty year-old had recently fallen to drunkenness, and had turned out to be absolutely no help at all, forcing Seeder to mentor both of them herself. "Want to see something?" Till asked, his face twisting into a wicked smile.

"Sure?" Lannah said carefully. That smile usually wasn't a good sign. Till walked to the back of the train car and wrenched up the emergency door, a door that was supposed to be locked. "Till!" Lannah called, pulling him away from the rush of air that came from outside.

"It's fine!" he yelled over the noise. "I was out there last night!" Pulling his arm away from Lannah, Till took two steps outside and then launched himself off of the back of the train. Lannah screamed, the sound ripped away and scattered by the window. Before she could run to get help however, Till came flying back in through the door. Lannah screamed, causing the grin on his face to grow wider.

"What was that?" Lannah bawled, frustrated and confused tears falling down her face.

"There's a shield around the train, a force field that throws you back if you try to jump." Till said, breathing heavily from the excitement. "There's one for the top too."

"What?" Lannah said, calming down but still confused.

"Watch," Till said, taking off his shoe to reveal a scarred, and slightly shriveled left foot. Bring the shoe back, Till whipped it forward, throwing it through the door with all of his might. Moments later, the shoe came back through the door, landing on the far side of the room. "See?" Till said. "You try it." Lannah took off her shoe and repeated Till's motion, throwing her shoe out the door and waiting. It didn't come back.

"Where did it go— Lannah's question was cut off as the shoe came back through the door and smacked Till in the face, knocking him off balance and onto the floor with a surprised screech. "I'm so sorry!" Lannah squealed, bending down to pick up the shoe. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'll be okay," Till said, sitting up and revealing a large, blackening eye. "That wasn't what I was going to show you though," he said, ignoring Lannah's outstretched hand and standing up. "Watch exactly what I do." Walking once more to the door, Till jumped out, twisting his body oddly to the side before falling out of sight. Lannah watched as Till flew back toward her, but then his legs caught in mid-air and just hung there, completely suspended above the train tracks. "You do it!" he yelled, his dark eyes reflecting the light of the setting sun.

"Are you crazy?" Lannah yelled. "I'll die!"

"Trust me!" Till said, his voice fumbling over the words. Lannah took a step back and saw his face fall. She had disappointed him. Taking one more step back, Lannah forced herself into a run, jumping and twisting like Till had done. There was a minute of confusion, she didn't which way was up or down, all she felt was the rushing wind grasping at her, pulling her away from the train, but then all was still, and she was floating next to Till.

"This is horrifying!" Lannah yelled unnecessarily. The sound of the wind had grown oddly quiet. "Why is it so quiet?" she asked, turning her head to the boy.

"I think the humming of the shields kind of cancels the noise," Till said, "I don't know though."

"Okay, here's another question," Lannah said, a touch of hysterics creeping into her voice. "How are we _floating in the air?_"

"Remember how I said there was a separate shield for the top of the train?" Till said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "If you get into just the right place, the two shields push you toward the opposite shield, and you just sort of float there." He was clearly immensely proud of his discovery.

Lannah looked around, taking in her surroundings for the first time. At this time last night she had been leaning up against the rough wood walls of her family's hut, and tonight she was floating in the air, and flying along at exhilarating speeds. Maybe being reaped hadn't been _all _bad. Then a thought hit her, and her face fell.

"Till?" she asked, a sadness creeping into her eyes. "How did you know about the force field?"

"I was eating an apple," he said, brushing off the question. "I threw the core out the door and it came back."

"I don't believe you," Lannah said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. Till turned around and saw that she was crying again. "You tried to kill yourself, didn't you?"

"No, it wasn't like that," he said, trying his best to convince her. "Okay, so the apple story was a lie, but it wasn't attempted suicide. I heard Shining talking about the tower that the tributes stay in while they're in the Capitol, and how there's a force field like this on the roof. I guessed there would be one here too, and I was right."

"You _guessed?_" Lannah cried. "That was stupid, Till." Her crying was making her voice raw, and the sound was heart wrenching. "You have to be careful, okay? A guess like that could actually kill you. Promise you won't take anymore risks like that?"

"I'll do what I want," Till said quietly, hunching his shoulders.

"Stop," Lannah said. "Don't go back to being like you were, you need to be happy."

"Stop telling me what to do!" Till yelled. "What right do you have to dictate my life? You think I can't make my own decisions? That I need your _help?_"

"No," Lannah mumbled.

"Good," Till spat. "Because I don't." The angry boy showed Lannah the odd, jerking movement she would have to make in order to escape the two energy fields, stomping away as soon as she successfully made it back onto the train.

* * *

**District 6**

**Tributes:** Sawyer Coleman (17) and Skylar Andronicus (12)

**Escort:** Razzle Moroe

**Mentors:** Pilate Pierson and Sidney Wake

* * *

Skye woke up and felt all around her, eventually finding the edge of the bed and sliding off of the silk sheets and onto the floor. Slowly and carefully, the girl inched out into the hallway, following the sound of clinking silverware and the smell of cooking eggs, some form of sizzling meat, both mixed with a new smell, something completely foreign to her. As she got closer to the source of the noises, a voice spoke. "I'm so glad you're awake, we are _so _close to the Capitol, I can almost feel it." The voice came from Sidney, Skye's mentor. Her voice was lower, which distinguished her from the only other woman on the train, Razzle Moroe.

"How did we get here so fast?" Skye asked, still standing in what she thought was the middle of the room.

"District six has the most direct route to the Capitol," she heard Sawyer say around a mouth full of food. "Our tributes almost always get to the big city first."

"Isn't it _exciting?_" Razzle burst out from somewhere on Skye's left, shocking the girl and causing all of her muscles to spasm at once. "Both of you will meet your stylists, get all dressed up, and then you will have your début in the Capitol! I just _love _doing this." As if it was a continuation of her former statement, Razzle let out a shriek. "There it is!" Skye felt a pair of cold hands with long, smooth nails guide her forward until her own outstretched hands touched cool, hard glass. The window.

"What does it look like?" Skye asked, though everyone was talking over her, and nobody heard.

"It's bigger than I thought."

"How long has that tower on the left been up? I don't remember it."

"It feels so good to be _home_."

"Hello?" Skye yelled, finally gaining their attention. "What does it look like?"

"Oh, dear," Razzle said, wondering how to explain the monumental city to the small girl. "Well, it's very large," she finally began. "Many of the buildings reach up into the sky, and they are all… shiny." She spoke slowly, as if Skye was a small child.

"Oh, okay," Skye said, cutting off the stream of simplistic explanations. "Thanks."

In a way Skye reminded Sawyer of his littler sister, as she was stubborn, willful, and independent. While the little blind girl standing in front of him had learned to ask for help, she was perfectly fine with dismissing it if she wasn't happy with the quality of the help presented.

"Do you remember what metal looks like?" Sawyer asked.

"Yes, I do. All the different kinds."

"The city is shaped like a pyramid," the tall boy said, explaining what the escort had failed to put into words. "All of the tallest buildings are towards the middle, and the shorter ones are toward the edges. Most of the buildings are made of several very bright silvers, but some of the more abstractly shaped constructs have splashes of other colors, like bronze and gold. One of these looks like a giant ball made entirely of gold, and it has chords of bronze running around the outside. There are fountains everywhere, and the sunlight reflects back and forth between the running water and the cool surface of the buildings around them. All of the colors match. Nothing is being fixed, repaired, or improved because everything is already perfect. We're heading straight for one building in particular, and there are huge posters with the tributes faces on them lining the way. They look exactly like us. The building itself is blindingly white, and impeccable clean. It has a lot of landscaping around it, bushes, trees and such, and the bright greens stand out against the white very brilliantly. It's the train station. I don't know what else to say except that everything in the city is bigger, shinier, and cleaner than anything you can remember." Sawyer stopped, looking over his shoulder at the adults in the room who were staring at him.

"That was very sweet," Sidney said, holding a handkerchief to her eyes.

"Yes," Skye said, smiling for the first time in days. "Thank you."

* * *

**District 12**

**Tributes:** Marsh Melonee (13) and Serenity Gilbert (17)

**Escort:** Mimi Bauble

**Mentor:** N/A

* * *

Marsh shivered violently as he stepped into the shower. Why was it so big? Were there people on this train that were so fat that they needed a shower of this size? Did people use these every day? All of these thoughts were racing through the boy's head as he looked skeptically at the large panel of what he assumed were controls for the shower. Reaching out a trembling hand, Marsh picked a knob at random and twisted. A harsh jet of water came from a large plate on the side of wall, hitting him in the side and causing him to squeal and drop to his knees in order to escape the blast. Reaching up, the skinny youth turned off the side panel and twisted another knob, which started a stream of translucent gels in varied colors. Picking a knob located closer to the first one he had tried, Marsh finally got the shower to pour down warm water from overhead. Mixing with the gels during its descent, the soapy water fell with a relaxing rhythm on Marsh's neck and shoulders. If he had one of these in the orphanage, he definitely would have used it every day. Using a small cloth he had found hanging outside of the shower, Marsh started to scrub his grimy skin, slowly washing off the layers of dirt that had accumulated over his years in the Home for the Homeless. After an undeterminable amount of time, he stepped begrudgingly out of the shower, looking into the mirror at his tall, wiry, and pale form as he toweled off with one of the enormous and spectacularly fluffy towels. Marsh slipped into a sweater comprised of varying shades of purple stripes, and a pair of paints that he could barely squeeze into. Mimi had assured him that they were his size, and had refused to let him wear anything bigger. "It would reflect poorly on the fashion advice they assume I give you," she had said, literally forcing him into the bathroom with the skinny jeans still clutched in his hands.

Walking out of the elaborate bathroom, Marsh's eyes swept over the room, searching for the pile of clothes that he had discarded before his shower. They were gone. Bursting out of his room, Marsh rushed into the sitting room and stopped in front of Mimi. "What did you do with them?" he asked, angry that she would take his stuff without asking.

"With _what_?" she countered, though she obviously knew what he was talking about.

"With my clothes!" Marsh yelled.

"Quiet down," Mimi commanded. "You might make poor Serenity faint again." The escort looked with disdain at the small girl who had stopped staring out of the window in order to witness the encounter between the two. "They were filthy, disease-ridden rags," she continued. "I told one of the avoxes to burn them." She spoke of the tongue-less servants as if they weren't human, just an extra set of limbs to carry out her bidding.

"What?!" Marsh exclaimed. It wasn't the clothes he had worn that he mourned; it was the sock that he had bundled up with them; the same sock that he intended to take into the arena as his token. The boys at the Home, Fennel, Lichen, and Bryony had presented him with Picking Sock. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing that they had had to give and it had meant the world to Marsh. Could it really be gone?

Serenity watched as her district partner tore out of the room, presumably to track down the avox that had burned his things. It was a cruel thing that Mimi had done, destroying his ties to district twelve, but he shouldn't be surprised. Cruelty obviously came second nature to the Capitolite woman. Ever since the door to the train had closed Mimi had been positively venomous. Explaining that they had no mentor, and that they were essentially the walking dead because of that fact, Mimi immediately sat down and started working on her nails. She had ignored their questions, laughed off the two tribute's sadness, and insulted their entire district every time the silence grew too unbearable. The only thing she had done that could be attributed to kindness was to give them comfortable, "Capitol appropriate" attire, and even that had been more of a demand and less of a suggestion.

Serenity turned back to the window and watched the clouds fly across her field of vision. She had tried watching the ground, looking for the mud and rocks that might remind her of the roads of district twelve, but the train's dizzying speed made it impossible.

"Should I send a message to your stylist about your hideous birth mark now?" Mimi asked in an offhand fashion, as if she hadn't just insulted the girl at all. "Or should we wait and make it a _surprise_?" The woman threw her head back and belted the high, girlish snicker she had substituted for laughter. Serenity didn't reply, knowing full well that silence was the best way to deal with people who were mean for sport. She'd dealt with plenty of it back at home, though she'd had Dimitri then. That's what she missed most about being home, having someone on her side, someone who would stand up for her. Slipping out of the chair, Serenity walked in the direction that Marsh had gone, looking through the open door of his bedroom. He was in there, as she had supposed, lying on his bed as sobs racked his deathly thin frame.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, repeating the question several times before he finally heard."

"No," he sobbed, "I'm not okay. I'm going to die and I don't have single scrap of cloth to remind me of home." The words were curious, as he had expressed every hope of winning since the trip had begun. Could such a simple thing really break him so easily?

"Well," Serenity mused, "You have me." It was so odd being the strong one, being the shoulder instead of the one crying on it. Marsh looked up, wiping his eyes.

"Do you mean that?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course," Serenity answered, "We're a team."

"Thanks," Marsh said, regaining a measure of his former optimism. "Maybe, between the two of us, we can get you home."

"Me?" Serenity asked, confused. "Why me?"

"Because my whole world was crushed because of a sock," he chuckled bitterly. "Your life actually means something, it might actually become something that the world needs."

"Thanks," Serenity said simply. In that moment, he had sounded exactly like Dimitri. Walking away from the door, Serenity went to her own room and pulled a small package out from under her bed. Quietly making her way to the back of the train, the girl knocked on the door that housed the avoxes. A tall woman with shocking red hair opened the door, jumping as she recognized the tribute. There was a moment of silence before Serenity remembered that the woman wasn't going to say anything. "Could you please dispose of this for me?" she asked, holding out the package. The woman nodded and Serenity left, hearing the click of the door behind her.

The avox woman made her way slowly toward the engine room and unwrapped the package. She didn't think anything of the garbage until the moment she tossed it into the raging fire. How odd, she thought, there were three socks.

* * *

**A/N**

**There it is, the last of the train rides! I hope you enjoyed them and the... Drama they introduced. ;)**

**The Capitol Betting leader is Bass Shores (D4) with an astounding 4.5, and Skye Andronicus still has the lowest score with an appalling 0.5. Poor dear. If you don't have all of your bets in, you should do that, and get a friend to read and bet too. I'd love that!**

**By the way, I am SO close to hitting 50,000 words. That's a pretty big achievement for me!**

**-IVV**


	18. A Tribute Parade

**The Tribute Parade**

* * *

Isis Carlisle and Bliss Sparks

* * *

Isis had never devoted herself to style and fashion to the extent that most of the other girls in district one had, but looking at herself in the mirror she began to realize the appeal. Her dress for the tribute parade was phenomenal. It was composed of a tight, fitted bodice made of a gleaming blue material, and the skirt gradually gave way to a deep wave made completely of peacock feathers. The resulting train of dazzling green stretched far behind the girl. The peacock feathers also appeared in a tall plume that erupted from her shoulders and connected behind her head, fanning out like the tail of a peacock, and giving her the appearance of exotic royalty. Looking in the mirror, Isis knew that in this moment, she was the most beautiful she had ever been.

Turning away from her reflection, Isis took a moment to praise her stylist before stepping into her enormous heels and walking carefully toward the long, low-lit room where they kept the chariots. She had initially fought the idea of the shoes, doing her best to avoid the possibility of falling out of the chariot, but her stylist had insisted that she appear as tall as Bliss while they were in the chariot together.

"Wow," Bliss exclaimed as she drew alongside him. "When did you get so tall?"

"It's the shoes," Isis said, frowning. "You're looking," Isis paused, searching for the right word to explain Bliss and his attire. "Dapper." The boy was dressed in a fashionable white suit with peacock feathers woven into the design, most noticeably sweeping in to conceal the gold buttons adorning the suit jacket.

"Thanks," he answered. "You don't look too bad yourself." In all honesty, the girl was stunning, and Bliss was doing his best to not just stop and stare. "I think that's district two coming out of the elevator," Bliss said, pointing to the far corner of the room. "Shall we go meet our newfound friends?"

"Goodness, no," Isis said, turning away from the arriving careers and appearing fascinated with the sounds of the crowd that were coming from just outside the room. "They need to come to _us_, it will psychologically support our authority in their minds."

"Oh," Bliss said, slowly turning toward the crowd as Isis had, though his face was split into a wide grin. "You're good at this."

* * *

Lannah Woolks and Till Umber

* * *

Lannah sat in the reclined chair, feeling the fingers of her prep team run through her long hair, scrape the tough layers of skin off the bottoms of her feet, and rub strangely colored oils into her skin. After she had been separated from the people she knew, she had started off listening politely to the jabber of her prep team, but her thoughts began to wander to other things. The parade, the Games, and her district partner, Till.

She worried about him. Ever since they had arrived in the Capitol he had reverted back to his old behavior. On the train Lannah had finally been able to crack his hard shell of venomous comments and general bad behavior, but as soon as they stepped into the train station it was like it had never happened. She couldn't blame him though, the way people looked at him; the way the crowd shrieked when they saw him up close. It made her sad that people reacted to him in the way that they did, and that he let it affect him so deeply.

"Which is why we had to go with a similar design, you see?" Lannah looked up to see the Classica, her hair specialist, smiling expectantly at her.

"Oh, I see," Lannah agreed, feeling horrible for completely tuning the group out. No matter what they looked like, they were people too and she shouldn't have been so rude. "Please, tell me more," she implored.

Till stood with his back to the large mirror, glaring at his stylist, a man who had introduced himself as, "Zamann, the greatest of the greats in cosmetics." Upon seeing his charge, the man had called in an extra set of prep specialists to work on Till, and after hours of intense work they had all stood back and appraised what they had done, apparently impressed by their work. At the moment they all stood crowded behind their boss, quivering with excitement like a flock of birds in a cold winter wind. He didn't know why they were so excited; he couldn't possibly look _that _good.

"Well, go on!" one of the prep team finally yelled, unable to take the suspense. Rolling his eyes, Till slowly turned toward the mirror and looked up, his eyes widening in a mixture of amazement, terror, and shock. The young man staring at him from the reflective glass was not Till.

It was his brother.

Till stood rooted to the spot, completely paralyzed by what the prep team had done. He couldn't remember much from before the flames had consumed his life, but he remembered his parents commenting in wonder about how much he looked like his handsome brother. He had never believed them until now. His scars were completely covered, revealing the boy who would have been if not for the horrific fire on that fateful day. For the first time since he was a kid, he was whole.

Looking down at his left hand, the one that had suffered the most in the fire, Till flexed his hand, trying to touch his withered fingers to his thumb, a habit of his since the fire, but he still couldn't do it. He was still damaged beyond repair. He wasn't whole, and he was lying to himself if he thought it would be that easy.

"What did you do?" Till cried suddenly, whipping around to face his stylist.

"Well, it's actually quite complicated," Zamann stammered, confused by the angry tears falling from the boy's eyes. "When it comes down to it though, we covered you up. So you could look like yourself."

"I _already_ looked like myself!" Till screamed, turning back to the mirror and smashing his fist into his reflection. The mirror cracked from the first blow, and shattered from the second, flecks of blood from Till's hands staining the glittering shards that rained down onto the floor.

"What are you doing?!" The entire prep team scattered, calling out their various protests as they fled to safety.

"That's not who I am," Till seethed, breathing heavily as he started to calm down. "The scars are who I am now. Bring them back." Zamann whimpered slightly.

"We did such great _work _though," he pleaded. "It would be such a _waste_ to undo what we've done already."

"Well then," Till hissed through gritted teeth. "You have a lot of wasting to do."  
After the stylist was done returning Till to his former state, he buttoned up his rather plain suit and went to the room where the other tributes would be waiting. "There you are!" Lannah burst from the crowd and threw her arms around Till. "What took you so long? Being down here alone was unbearable."

"I— Till was cut off as a girl walking past gave Lannah a hard shove, knocking her to the floor. "Hey!" Till yelled after her, leaning over and helping Lannah up. "What a little— this time it was Lannah that interrupted.

"Stop," she said. "I'm fine. She was probably just in a hurry."

* * *

Athene Harbrick and Slater O'Brien

* * *

Athene ignored the protest from the district eleven boy. She was not in the mood to argue with pathetic whining brats. Hauling herself over to the district one chariot, Athene bit her tongue and put on a smile.

"Hello, district one," she said, smiling up at them. "I'm Athene, district two." The two tall, exquisitely dressed tributes were standing side by side in their chariot, putting them far above their new ally. She pretended not to notice.

"Greetings, Athene," Bliss said, smiling condescendingly. "Where's your partner?"

"I'm sure he'll be along eventually," Athene answered, rolling her eyes. "He's a little slow." Athene looked down and repositioned her dress. The large, bulging skirt was made of varying shades of gray, and was meant to look like a block of stone. The bulkiness faded closer to her right side of her body, giving the illusion that Athene was a statue being slowly carved out of stone. It was very convincing, and the girl had been impressed when she saw the dress, but it was as heavy and stifling as wearing real stone. Finally, Slater caught up to his partner and stood next to her, fighting off the urge to bow before the imposing couple from district one. Instead of a suit imitating Athene's dress, Slater was completely shirtless; leaving his rippling muscles completely bare apart from the shimmering gray dust that had been painted on. The rough worker's pants he wore, paired with the large stone hammer and chisel he held in his hands finished the image of a committed sculptor. The district two stylists had obviously put a lot of work into designing the matched set. Though Athene was yet to be impressed by Slater's ability in the arena, she was happy that his sturdy build made Bliss look less impressive by comparison.

"Hey," Slater said, nodding at Bliss while draping an arm around Athene and pulling her closer to him. "It's nice to meet you two."

"It's nice to meet you as well, Slater," Isis said sweetly, eyeing them oddly. Slater had stiffened up as soon as he touched her, as if he was expecting her to bite. Isis had seen how Athene reacted to Slater during the reaping, and the chances were very slim that a train ride had changed her feelings. They were obviously putting on a show in order to appear as a stronger team.

Amateurs.

"Well," Isis said, smiling down at them. "You'd better get to your own chariot, we don't want to be late for the parade, do we?"

"We have a plenty of time," Athene smiled back, deflecting the dismissal. "Besides, we don't want to miss meeting district four, do we?" Athene's mocking impression of Isis's condescending tone was as plain as day. The two girls glared at each other, venomous grins plastered on their faces.

"Speaking of district four," Bliss cut in, breaking the icy silence. "I was hoping that we could come to an understanding about them."

"What kind of understanding?" Athene snapped curtly.

"A mutual agreement that when we've killed all the other tributes, we get rid of them before splitting up." Athene eyed Bliss with a newfound respect.

"Tell you what," she said, drawing herself up to her full height and stepping closer to the chariot. "I'll get to know district four, and then we'll talk." She'd had enough of district one's god complex. It was time to start doing things on her terms.

* * *

Bandit Highland and Andelin Brown

* * *

Bandit blushed, shaking her head as a weak disagreement to the compliments being showered on her. Her stylists, the mentors, and to Andelin's disappointment, Magnus Magenta were the sources of the unwanted compliments. "Sweetie," Magnus said, running a long finger down the side of her face. "It takes a rare beauty to pull off this dress the way you do."

"Oh, stop," Bandit implored sheepishly, gathering the folds of the dress in her hands and dragging herself off of the podium surrounded by mirrors. The strapless dress was a seemingly random assortment of dozens of different animal skins and furs, and while district ten had probably never housed most of the animals represented, the gown enthralled Bandit. Running her hands absentmindedly over the array of textures, Bandit walked slowly over to take Andelin's place just as he took her's on the podium. His suit was very much the same, though the glittering black eyeliner he had insisted on framing his eyes with stood out from the natural appearance of the furs.

"Do I look good, too?" Andelin asked, ever seeking the attention of their relaxed, and apparently hugely famous escort.

"Don't ever ask people if you look good," Magnus said, drawing up next to Andelin in front of the mirrors. Outfitted in what was surely the height of Capitol fashion, the older man made Andelin look clumsy and awkward by comparison. "If they don't tell you, _you _tell _them._" Reaching out a hand laden with heavy rings, Magnus pulled Bandit over to the mirror as well, guiding her to a place on the podium beside Andelin. "This is important, so both of you listen," he continued, standing up straighter and adjusting his suit jacket. "As fabulous as the outfits will be during the parade, they are only as impressive as the tributes wearing them. If you stand up straight, if you smile and wave, if you make them wish they were _you, _you will make a bigger impression than any of the careers, understand? You may feel trapped by the Games, you may feel out of place in the Capitol, but in this moment _you are free_. I want to see that freedom in your _eyes_, in your _faces_, and in the way you behave tonight in front of the sponsors." Bandit saw Andelin stand taller and taller as Magnus spoke, and she couldn't help but feel lifted up by his words as well. They might not win the Games, but they were going to win the hearts of everyone watching.

* * *

Colleen Reyna and Aden Hanran

* * *

"Let's go talk to them," Aden said, gesturing across the room filled with tributes sporting their various elaborate costumes.

"No!" exclaimed Colleen. "You go talk to them by yourself, I'm not leaving the chariot until the end of the parade." Looking herself up and down, Colleen renewed her attempts to hide the ridiculous costume she was wearing behind the walls of the district eight chariot.

"Stop it Cols, you look fine," Aden said, reaching out to gently pull her white-knuckled hand off of the chariot.

"Are you kidding me?" Colleen said with disbelief. "None of the sponsors are going to donate to someone who already looks like the lost the Games."

The district eight stylist had almost fainted with excitement when she explained the dress to Colleen. First the girl had been squeezed into a rubber cocktail dress that only stretched to mid-thigh, and then the stylist's helpers had fitted her into a wire cage that wrapped around her legs. This was supposed to make the girl look like a 'picturesque form of an antique mannequin.' Which, of course, didn't leave enough of an impression to satisfy the stylist. On top of the already ridiculous ensemble, a myriad of fabrics were pinned at random, forming an abstract impression of an unfinished outfit. Large false pins had been arrayed around her shoulders as well; overall giving Colleen the appearance of a pile of laundry that had been skewered with several metal bars. Aden had gotten off easy, dressed appropriately to portray the creator of Colleen's outrageous dress. That is, the unfinished dress pinned to the dress she was actually wearing.

"You just have to stand up and rock the outfit," Aden said, offering her a weak smile.

"Nobody could rock this outfit," Colleen huffed.

"Look at me," Aden said, pulling her closer. "No matter what you're wearing, you are _always_ the most beautiful woman in the room." Colleen blushed and kissed him, pressing her soft lips against his.

"Fine," she said. "You've convinced me, let's go."

* * *

Rhia Davis and Chase Rige

* * *

Rhia Davis, the girl from seven, looked like a dryad born from the depths of the forest itself. District seven tributes were dressed as trees for almost every tribute parade, and this year was no exception, but instead of the usual browns and greens Rhia was resplendent in a floor-length, form-fitting dress that imitated the white birch tree. The dark spots, accentuated by the subtle, smoky grays gave a sense of natural grandeur that wasn't present in the dress's simple design. With her long, golden curls set in an elaborate design atop her head and bedecked with startling pink flowers, she was easily one of the most striking tributes milling about the room. This made it very easy to miss the small, quiet boy sitting in the chariot, his darker gray suit making him blend into the shadows created by the little light present in the dimly lit room.

"Hello," Aden said, smiling and putting his arm around Colleen's waist. "I'm Aden, and this is Colleen. We're from district eight."

"Obviously," Rhia mused, looking them both over. "I'm Rhia."

"I _love_ your dress," Colleen said genuinely. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," Rhia said, looking around as if she were waiting for someone. "So what's the real reason you're over here?"

"We just wanted to say hello," Aden answered, continuing as Rhia rolled her eyes. "And tell you about an opportunity you won't want to miss." The little boy in the chariot seemed to perk up, sitting up straighter and leaning forward.

"What kind of opportunity?" Rhia asked, glancing down at her partner before leveling her gaze at Aden.

"An opportunity to be a part of an anti-career pack," Colleen said in a hushed voice. "There have never been enough capable tributes from the outlying districts to actually put up a fight up against them, not until this year. This is the year we could make sure that those bloodthirsty monsters won't get their way." Rhia's eyes wandered over to the careers who were all crowded around the district one chariot.

"Who else were you going to get?" She asked quickly, a nervous look in her eyes.

"Both from nine, the boy from six, the girl from ten, and possibly the boy from eleven, we're not sure about him yet." Aden stood quietly, watching the girl think over the idea. Just before she answered the little boy cut in.

"What about me?" he asked, finally standing up. "I'm Chase, were you going to ask me?" Colleen smiled.

"Of course," she said, squeezing Aden's hand to keep him from saying anything. "We came to invite both of you." A light started to grow in the Chase's eyes and his lips parted in a grin.

"I'm in!" he said, pumping an excited fist into the air. Looking at his partner, Chase grabbed her arm and looked into her eyes. "Come on, join with me." Rhia's eyes widened and she shook his hand off.

"I'll think about it," was all she said before turning and walking to a table laden with refreshments.

"Don't worry about her," Chase beamed to Aden and Colleen. "I'll get her to join."

The two tributes from eight expressed their thanks and hurried over to the district ten chariot, wanting to talk to the girl who was absentmindedly petting each of the horses. Just as they had introduced themselves however, the girl's jaw dropped open and she pointed behind them. Turning and sweeping their gaze around the room, the two saw every other tribute present making similar expressions of shock, awe, and in some cases, envy.

It was district four.

Their skin was completely covered in what appeared to be small, iridescent scales, and besides the shining golden nets draped over their bodies, they were wearing absolutely nothing else.

* * *

Bass Shores and Caspian Devon

* * *

"I told you to get fatter," Bass muttered, flicking her bright white hair over her shoulder as they made their way to the district one chariot.

"I definitely should have listened," Caspian said, acknowledging the shocked looks and wandering eyes with a wave. "Keep your head up though, I want to knock the smile off that little beauty queen's face." Bass laughed, punching Caspian in shoulder as they got closer to their fellow careers. As they approached, Slater's arm fell away from it's place around Athene, and Isis leaned away from Bliss, her eyes wide.

"Hey," Bass said in a low, lazy tone. "Looks like we're a little late to the party."

"You're fine," Slater said, his eyes lingering uncomfortably long on the pair. "You guys are going to make an impression on the crowd, that's for sure."

"Yeah," Caspian agreed, flashing a smile. "We're good at that." The six tributes stood for a moment in silence, sizing each other up. Bliss was looking sick, and Athene tapped her foot nervously. Winning over this particular career pack was going to be an impressive feat, that much was clear.

"Well," Isis said, quickly regaining her composure. "We are _so _glad to have you in the career pack this year. I hope you feel welcome." Athene snorted, scooting closer to Bass. As if district one had a more substantial claim in the group than anyone else.

"Thanks," Bass said, glancing at Athene. "We are happy to be here." Just then the bell was struck by a silent, nameless avox, signaling the beginning of the parade.

* * *

Head Gamemaker, Mercedes Virgo

* * *

Virgo looked out of the colossal window of the Gamemaker's Skybox, thoughtfully swirling the amber liquid in her glass. Seeing the enormous crowd just on the other side of the glass was almost surreal, as she couldn't hear a single noise from outside.

"Aren't you so _excited_?!" Virgo put a smile on her face and turned to address the source of the shriek, Lattice Grand.

"Of course, darling," she said, gesturing Lattice forward with a pat on the seat beside her. "It's absolutely _thrilling_."

"I simply can _not _wait to see more of the tributes," Lattice continued; tossing a shot of cloudy, pink liquid into her mouth. "Have you talked to the stylists at all? Do you have the _inside scoop_?"

"No, honestly," Virgo admitted. "I've been very preoccupied lately, this parade will be as much of a surprise for me as it is for everyone else."

"Ooh!" Lattice squealed. "How fun! A bit of surprise for the woman who won't be surprised in the _least _about what happens in the Games." Lattice reached for the tray behind her and swung a crystal decanter wildly around in front of her. "Would you like some?" she asked. Virgo looked down into her empty glass. She probably shouldn't have any more this evening.

"Sure," she said, leaning her glass toward her friend. "Thank you." Lattice poured Virgo a generous amount of the liquor, sloshing even more of it on the carpet when she was startled by the sound of the Capitol anthem being played through the speakers set in strategic places around the room.

"It's starting!" Lattice cried, screaming in excitement with the other gamemakers and whipping the crystal into the air where it hung for a moment before crashing to the ground, signaling a new round of cheers.

Though the chariots were too far away to see with the naked eye, the glass in the skybox acted as a giant lens, and zoomed in on the approaching tributes. There, very first in line, was district one.

"Oh, feathers!" someone cried from behind Virgo's seat directly in front of the glass. Feathers indeed. Not only were the feathers standing out, but the colors were brilliant by themselves. This would no doubt be included in next year's spring collection in the Capitol. While her colleagues continued to chatter about the lovely design, Virgo was even more impressed by the strategic significance of the girl tributes dress. Her impossibly long train of peacock feathers dragged yards and yards behind the chariot, forcing a substantially larger distance to open up between district one's chariot and the chariot behind it. It set them apart in the parade, and set them apart in the minds of the sponsors. Genius.

The next duo was portrayed as a sculptor and his creation, an interesting take on the stone working industry in district two. The two tributes were even acting out the roles given to them, the boy raising his hammer and chisel in various areas and the girl standing as still as a statue with her hands raised. It was entertaining, but while the design of the girl's gown _was_ impressive, the grays throughout weren't very visual catching, and Virgo found her eyes wandering back to the couple from district one.

Then she saw district three. Flowers of all kinds were showering the chariot continually, the crowd leaning forward out of their seats to catch a glimpse of the girl. Standing tall and blowing kisses dramatically, she was completely at ease in the small, revealing dress that seemed to be made of small lights that were continually shifting colors. Halfway down the street the girl turned to her partner, poking him and laughing until he joined the revelry. Turning off the noise cancellers for a minute, Virgo wasn't surprised in the least to hear the crowd raging, not a single person still in their seat. The charismatic duo from three was quite the hit.

Suddenly the noise changed, a rumble of shock and excited whispers sweeping through the crowd. "Oh," Lattice moaned. "The scales are fantastic." Standing close together, the tributes from district four were looking strong and comfortable, a feat that must have been very difficult in their position.

"We need to talk to district four's stylists," Virgo said, standing up to gather a few of the tiny cupcakes set in an elaborate design on the snack table. "I've seen one too many naked tributes coming down the road in that chariot."

"I disagree," Lattice purred. "I look forward to this every year." Giggling at Virgo's look of disgust, the woman patted her arm good-naturedly. "I'm kidding, Virgo, lighten up. I'll talk to them about it tomorrow."

"Thank you," Virgo wheezed, throwing herself back down on the pink fur couch.

District five came and went, only able to generate a small amount of pity from the crowd. The two were dressed as tesla coils on opposite sides of the chariot, and while the electricity crackling between them would normally have been impressive, the small winces and gritted teeth of the tributes communicated the pain they were in.

District six got the crowds cheers back, though their outfits were nothing special. Dressed in the normal, every day pilot suits, the two stood at a complicated control panel set into the top of the chariot. The rest of the chariot was the source of the crowd's excitement, as it was completely converted into a sleek, new model of a hovercraft. It was very impressive, but not technically in line with the protocol set up for the tribute parade. Virgo turned to bring this to the attention of Viridian Xeraque, the most studious and scholarly gamemaker who held the title of Executive Officer of Protocol, but realized he was already jotting it down in his signature platinum pocketbook.

District seven was popular among the crowd, though the excitement wasn't anywhere near what it had been at the beginning of the parade. Instead of screaming hysterically over the girl's beautiful dress, most of the people turned and whispered to each other, no doubt hatching their various plots to steal the design.

"How odd," was all Virgo could say as district eight came into view, the boy taking his part seriously as he repeatedly measured and re-measured various lengths of the girls 'dress.' People applauded his performance, laughing as the girl adjusted parts of the dress as the boy looked away. Suddenly, as they were nearing the largest portion of the crowd, the boy threw his hands into the air, silently declaring the dress to be finished. The cheers were renewed and heightened to a frenzy when he spun the 'mannequin' around and kissed her full on the mouth.

"Well, _they _obviously know each other pretty well," Lattice chuckled.

"Yes," Virgo mused absentmindedly, her eyes flicking to the podium where the President sat watching the parade. "They were about to be married before the reaping."

"How _tragic_." Though the words were certainly true, Lattice continued her quiet laughter throughout the statement, giving it a dark and sinister edge.

District nine came by in an interesting array of shoots of wheat and a tight-fitting fabric that imitated a woven basket. While the two tributes looked completely indifferent to one another, the two large youths still managed to send a strong message to the crowd: district nine wasn't going down without a fight.

Virgo couldn't help but smile as the district ten tributes came into view. The two tributes had abandoned the chariot itself and were riding the horses, the brilliant array of furs present on the girl's dress draped expertly over the side of her steed. As the crowd began to notice the riders the sound of their screams raged back to its former volume, forcing Virgo to reinstate the noise cancellers in the glass. "They're so _precious_," Lattice squealed as she noticed Virgo's smile. "You can't pretend like you don't love _that_."

"I must admit," Virgo laughed, feeling herself lifted out of the depression brought on by the absence of a certain purple pill. "That _is_ a nice touch."

District eleven wasn't quite so popular. The outfits were generic, seemingly exact replicas of last year's models, and while the girl's enormous grin and excited waving was infectious, any chance of the crowd waving back was destroyed by the sullen boy standing next her, his horrifying scars showing plainly on his face and arms. When his face flashed up on the large screens several people screamed in fear, causing him to snarl in disgust and stare angrily back at the screen. The picture was now even more repulsive than it had been before.

The district twelve chariot came around, revealing the shivering form of the girl who had fainted during the reaping, and the jumping, whooping figure of the orphan boy. The file that President Snow had given Virgo at their last meeting had had an extensive section on the boy known as Marsh, and not a very flattering one either.

The conversation stopped in the room as all the gamemakers, young and old, shuffled to their predetermined seats around the room. An avox approached and took Virgo and Lattice's goblets, spiriting them away to who knows where. Virgo adjusted herself into a proper position on the luxurious couch and reapplied her plum colored lipstick. When all were seated and had made themselves presentable as well there was a perfect, unobstructed view of each of them from the vantage point of the window, or more specifically the cameras on the other side. Though the cameras would mostly be trained on the President during his welcoming speech, every once in a while there would be a shot of the gamemakers, and heaven forbid they should be caught unawares.

Virgo took one long, shaky breath, steeling herself. From this moment forward, _everything _had to be flawless. She couldn't afford to make a single mistake, and if she was going to measure up to the President's expectations she would need to be performing at her very best. Her arm crept slowly behind her back where she patted a small, concealed pocket in her dress, the smooth orbs within rolling around in the space.

She'd be fine.

* * *

**A/N**

**Here it is, the Tribute Parade! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. This chapter really stumped me for some reason, I was blocked for a long time... Oh well! I felt like most of the tributes would feel awkward around everyone else at first, so there wasn't much surprising interaction, but that will come up in training. Thank you for your time! (and reviews?)**

**-IVV**


	19. First Day of Training

**Training: Day 1**

* * *

**Scarlette Blake**

* * *

Scarlette sat up in her enormous bed for a moment before flopping back into the warm, silk sheets. "Why did you wake me up?" she moaned, her voice barely audible through the pillows. Cable stood in the doorway.

"Because we have ten minutes until we have to be downstairs in the training room." Scarlette shrieked and threw herself out of bed, standing up and staring wide-eyed at Cable.

"Ten minutes?!" she cried. "Why did you wait until now?!" Cable tried to explain as she flew about the room, ripping clothes out of drawers and closets and tossing them wildly about the room.

"Well, after your little soirée with Pearlie and her friends last night, I assumed that you needed your sleep," Cable said. Scarlette paused in the middle of her rampage. Their escort had insisted on giving Scarlette a tour of the Capitol's finest liquor the night before, the results of which were less than pleasant.

"Aren't you thoughtful," she mused, slipping off her lace nightdress and jumping into the outfit she had laid out for herself. Cable spun around so fast that he hit the edge of the door, keeping his back to the girl as she dressed. "Oh, sorry," she laughed. Walking up behind Cable, Scarlette hugged him tightly. "Thank you for waking me up, Cable. You can go ahead though, I'll be down in a minute." Cable blushed, waiting for her to let go before stammering out a reply and going to the elevator.

"Don't be late!" Cable called weakly as he reached the shining doors.

Scarlette watched the doors close on the boy before she sprinted out of her room and into his. After her little show of affection in the doorway she was sure that he didn't have whatever papers he had gotten after the reaping, and if he didn't have them, he had to have stashed them somewhere. She was careful not to disturb anything as she rummaged through the room, looking under clothing, the mattress, and the rugs, as well as behind the dressers, mirrors, and even the toilet. Nothing. Returning to the middle of the room, Scarlette spun slowly, searching for any place she hadn't already looked through. He must have gotten rid of them, she concluded. The fireplace was false, though, so how had he done it? The girl's eyes swept the room one last time, lighting up with a spark of victory as she saw a small scrap of paper pressed against the outside of the window. He had ripped up the papers and tried to throw them out. Running to the window, Scarlette wrenched it open, shielding her face with her hands as several scraps of the ruined paper floated back into the room. Most had floated away, she thought, but some of them must have hit the invisible barrier outside of the window and been pressed back agains it. Slamming the window closed, Scarlette dropped to her knees and searched through the scraps of paper. Random words, random bits of a bar graph, but nothing useful. When she saw the last piece, she could hardly believe it. How had the little runt gotten his hands on _this_?

It was the official seal of the ElectroBlix genetics lab.

Gathering up all the pieces, Scarlette threw them back out of the window and returned to her room. She was definitely late for training, but it had been worth it. Now she knew what her partner was hiding, and she would stop at nothing to get it out of him.

* * *

**Sawyer Coleman**

* * *

Sawyer watched as the boy from three appeared from the depths of the elevator to take his place among the crowd. The head trainer had insisted that they wait for every last tribute, but he began as soon as Cable joined them. It was clear that Ms. Blake would not be joining them for the first part of the morning.

Sawyer tried to listen to the man's speech, but as he suspected everything was pretty straight forward. Train hard. Learn stuff. Play nice. Sawyer's eyes began to wander around the room as the trainer began a monologue about the importance of survival skills. The careers were all grouped together, naturally, the girl from two and the girl from four whispering to each other quietly, and the boy from two standing several feet behind the rest of the group. That wasn't something you usually saw in the career pack. Of course, Sawyer had only ever seen the Games from the Capitol point of view. Now he was on the other side; he was living it.

The trainer finally finished and everyone began to disperse. "Sawyer," Skye said from a few feet away. She was standing next to a tall, intimidating avox woman and turning her head from side to side, waiting for the sound of his voice.

"Yes?" he answered, walking over to her and tapping her foot lightly with his own. She had asked him to start doing that on the train so that she would know where was.

"I just wanted you to know that you can do your own thing," Skye said. "They gave me a helper so I can get around." She gestured to the avox standing next to her, who nodded at Sawyer.

"Okay," Sawyer said, sad, but a little relieved as well. "Thanks." He watched the pair move toward the edible plants station, thinking how odd it would be for them, a blind girl and mute woman, to navigate the gymnasium.

Searching out where the other tributes were spending their time, Sawyer spied the small blonde girl from ten talking to the trainer at the archery station. The cute one that had ridden the horse tied to her chariot. Well, he thought, moving in their direction, looks like archery is the order of the day. He stepped up to the firing range directly to the left of the girl, motioning for one of the attendants to push the target even farther away from his position. "Hey," Sawyer smiled at her, shooting her a quick wink. "I'm Sawyer." Bandit pulled back the string of the bow, testing its strength before nocking an arrow and letting it fly toward her target. She waited until she heard the satisfying thump of the arrow hitting its target before she answered.

"Hello, Sawyer," she said, smiling politely. "I'm Bandit."

"Bandit," Sawyer said slowly, testing the feel of her name on his lips. "It's a pleasure. You're pretty good with a bow." He turned and began testing out his own bow, only managing to hit the very largest ring on the target.

"Yeah, I should hope so," Bandit said, training her eyes on her own target as well. "I shot competitively when I was younger. It's been a while though." Sawyer whistled, impressed.

"That's awesome," he said, shooting again but missing the target completely. "You're one tough chick. Tell me more, Bandit. What was life like back at home? Did you have a boyfriend?" Bandit put down her bow and turned, crossing her arms and looking Sawyer in the eye.

"Look," she said. "I'm trying to focus, so could you stop talking to me?" Sawyer was stunned. The most opposition he had ever gotten from a girl was feigned ignorance of his advances.

"I'm just being friendly," Sawyer began, stopping as Bandit cut him off.

"No, you're not," she said, walking toward the fire making station. "And don't _ever _call me a 'chick' again."

* * *

**Kayn Topekh**

* * *

Kayn walked toward the field of standing dummies, watching the careers dispatch them almost easily. The boy from one was trying to 'kill' two dummies with one swing, and the others were cheering him, every once in a while trying to do the same. The girl from one, Isis eventually noticed Kayn. "You must be Kayn?" she asked, getting the attention of the others in the group.

"That's me," Kayn said, smiling nervously. His mother had said that everything was worked out, he was in with the careers, but the icy looks he was getting from the other youths made him wonder if their mentors had bother mentioning that to them.

"I'm Isis," Isis said, introducing herself before naming off the rest of the group. "Welcome aboard. We were going to just mess around and get loose before lunch, and then split up into different useful areas."

"Hold up, your majesty," Athene interjected, stepping forward and staring down the shorter girl. "I don't recall ever giving _you _the reins to this little operation." Isis stared back, though it was more than a little demeaning having to look up.

"I'm sorry," Isis spat. "I wasn't aware that they were yours to give." Kayn looked at the others, wondering if they were going to butt in, but none of them looked willing to step between the warring would-be leaders.

"Save it, princess," Athene hissed. "You're not even supposed to be here. In fact, Bliss is the only one besides myself that has any right to lead us, so unless he would like to volunteer, I think it's pretty clear who gets the position." Athene looked past Isis at the others, staring into each of their eyes until they looked away. "Good." Athene pushed Isis out of the way and approached Kayn. "I think you just saw how things work around here," she said plainly, looking him up and down.

"Yeah," he said. "I think it's pretty clear."

"Go find us a healer," Athene ordered. "Check the edible plants station, and the natural medicines station. We need someone who can help us if we run into something nasty in the arena."

"Why me?" Kayn asked, though he regretted it the moment the question slipped out of his mouth. This probably wasn't the best moment to be questioning authority.

"Because you're a nobody," Athene answered matter-of-factly. "The rest of us have to preserve our dignity."

"I guess that makes sense," Kayn muttered sarcastically under his breath as he walked away from the group. Maybe being a part of the career pack wasn't the best idea for this particular set of Games.

As he neared the natural medicines station Kayn picked out three people working there, the boy from ten, the girl from eleven, and the girl from twelve. The instructor was clearly impressed with all of them, and was clearly happy that his station was getting so much traffic this year. "How can I help you, young man?" the instructor asked.

"Yes, actually," Kayn answered, sliding into one of the tall stools set around the cluttered table. "Which one of these guys do you think is the best healer?"

"Oh," the man said disappointedly. "Well, they are all _very _impressive, but Lannah, the girl from eleven seems to eat, breathe, and dream both edible _and _medicinal plants. She'd be your best bet." Kayn nodded his thanks and exchanged his seat for the one to Lannah's right.

"Hey," Kayn said, smiling at the girl as she sorted a pile of various leaves into different groups. "You're good, I have no idea what you're doing." Lannah giggled.

"I could just be _pretending _to know what I'm doing," she laughed, offering him her hand. "I'm Lannah, what's your name?"

"I'm Kayn," he answered, shaking her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lannah."

"Same to you," she smiled. "Go ahead, ask me, you don't have to be shy."

"Ask you what?" Kayn asked, feigning confusion. He obviously needed to work on his subtlety.

"Well, you probably didn't walk all the way from your place with the careers to tell me I'm good at sorting leaves." Lannah laughed again. "Go for it, ask away."

"You caught me," Kayn chuckled, finding the girl's laughter contagious. "The careers need a healer, and I hear you're the best." Out of the corner of his eye Kayn saw the boy from ten's hand shake, causing him to drop the pestle he had been using. He was listening to their conversation.

"Hmm, to be a career," Lannah hummed, pretending to think. "I'm going to have to say no."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely surprised. People didn't usually refuse an offer from the careers.

"It's not because I have an inner hatred for them or anything," Lannah said quickly, dropping the leaves and turning to face Kayn. "I just think they already have a lot of problems that a healer can't fix. That, and I think I'm going to stick with my district partner, and he definitely won't be allying with you guys any time soon." Again, the boy from ten seemed to vibrate with the new information.

"I see where you're coming from," Kayn admitted. "I respect you for that, thanks for talking, Lannah."

"Thank you, Kayn," Lannah replied. "The offer was very flattering." Kayn stood up to leave, but paused as Lannah brushed his arm with her hand.

"You might want to think about leaving them too," she said. "Talk to the boy from eight if you don't find your place with them."

* * *

**Caspian Devon** and **Bass Shores**

* * *

Caspian and Bass left the unarmed combat area, making quick strides toward the weapons trainers. After Kayn had left to find the healer Athene had insisted that they try unarmed combat, giving her personal attention to matching Isis against the biggest and most formidable training assistants. "I can't believe she did that," Bass said as they reached the weapons.

"Correction," Caspian chimed in, looking over his shoulder. "You can't believe she _is doing_ that." Bass looked back at the two fighters and grimaced.

"I totally saw this coming," Bass started, brushing off the comments of the unneeded trainer and feeling the weight of several large knives. "Isis _was_ getting a little high and mighty, but she isn't a fighter, she's a strategist. What Athene's doing isn't teaching her a lesson, and it's not even a punishment, it's torture."

"Stop going easy on her!" they heard Athene yell from across the room. "She knows how to fight, so if she doesn't defend herself it's because she's _choosing_ not to!"

"Isis looks horrible," Caspian admitted, watching the girl pick herself up off of the mats and wipe the sweat from her forehead. "I kind of want to say something, but I think it would be best to leave it for now. Hopefully Athene's vengeance will fade by tomorrow."

"Agreed."

Dropping the knives she had deemed unsatisfactory, Bass gripped her chosen blade and turned, wrenching her body around and flinging the knife with all of her strength at the ranged combat station two sections to the left. The knife flew with terrifying speed past the girl from five's ear and thudded into the target that she had been aiming at with her own knife. Caspian whistled, clapping slowly as Bass listened to the rants of the trainer who looked like he was going to have a heart attack. "I'm sorry," Bass grumbled in a monotone voice. "You're right, I had no idea how dangerous that could have been. I'll go get the knife right away." She rolled her eyes at Caspian and stalked over to retrieve the knife. Ignoring the angry, but slightly impressed comments of the ranged combat instructor, Bass made sure that no one was training before walking forward and pulling the knife out of the target. It wouldn't have killed anyone, that was for sure, but the distance and accuracy had been surprising, even for Bass. Turning to go, her eyes fell on the girl from five who lifted her head to meet her gaze. Bass's breath caught in her throat. With the girl's ridiculous electrical coil costume gone, she finally realized what she hadn't been able to during the tribute parade.

She'd seen this girl before.

As soon as the girl noticed the recognition in Bass's eyes, she dropped her knives and headed across the room to where her brother was learning how to tie knots. "Hey!" Bass called, slipping her knife into her pocket and rushing forward to catch the girl's shoulder. "I've seen you before," Bass explained.

"You're wrong," Grace said quietly, keeping her head down. "Let me go, I need to talk to my brother." Grace shook of Bass's hand and continued across the room just as Caspian joined them.

"What was that all about?" he asked, watching Grace walk away.

"I swear I've seen her before," Bass answered.

"Yeah," Caspian said seriously, putting a hand on his partner's shoulder and leading her back to the weapons station. "Now that you mention it, she looks familiar to me too. She looks _exactly _like the girl tribute from five."

"You're so dumb," Bass laughed, pushing him away from her.

* * *

**Bliss Sparks**

* * *

Bliss leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling of the small dining room that the tributes had been led into around noon. The food had been sufficient, but the constant bickering around the table was starting to give him a headache. "That's enough," he finally spoke up. "Just get Andelin, Lannah dug her own grave when she said no." Athene had argued that the careers should only accept the best, and Kayn had countered that Andelin had a lot of experience from working in a shop with his parents.

"Excuse me?" Athene asked, surprised by the dissension from Bliss.

"Let's be honest," Bliss said, leaning forward and speaking quietly to avoid the listening ears of the tributes sitting nearby. "It's better to have a team member that wants to be with us than to have one that doesn't. Besides, the fact that you are disagreeing with us is giving the dead meat reason to doubt our skill as a group. Is that what you want?" Athene bit the inside of her cheek, slumping back in her seat.

"Whatever," she said, crossing her arms and giving Kayn an evil look. Bliss leaned back in his own chair and let out a long sigh.

"Good, good," he smiled, easing the tension with a wink aimed at Athene. "So who's going to get me more of that pudding stuff?" Caspian laughed, bumping Bass's shoulder and forcing a quiet laugh from her as well.

Then the doors opened, admitting the only tribute that had been absent all morning. The girl from district three.

The girl had the attention of the entire room. Her small athletic shorts revealed almost all of her long, tan legs, and her tightly fitted sleeveless shirt hugged her body, leaving little to the imagination. Striding into the room, Scarlette set her eyes on the career table and flashed them a lazy smile. Tossing her slightly mussed hair, she approached the table and stood between Bliss and Isis. "Hey," she said, placing a hand on Bliss's shoulder. "You guys have room for one more?"

"No," Isis and Bass said at the same time, identical looks of skepticism on both of their faces.

"Yeah, I think we can squeeze you in," Bliss said, grinning excitedly across the table at Slater and Caspian.

"Thanks," Scarlette said, ignoring the empty seat and sliding onto Bliss's lap instead. "Is this okay?" she asked, turning her head so that their faces were so close that they could each feel the other's breath.

"Yeah," Bliss said, swallowing hard. "This is fine."

"What do you want?" Athene asked bluntly, though she wasn't as visibly angered as the other two girls at the table. While Isis looked murderous, and Bass had already bent one of the small soup spoons, Athene had grown uncharacteristically quiet.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to let a girl into your little pack," Scarlette said, scooting back and leaning against Bliss's chest.

"We might," Athene said, silencing Isis's imminent outburst with a glare. "But why would we want _you_?"

"Well I'm bound to get sponsors, aren't I?" Scarlette said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It can't hurt to have a supply train, can it?"

"Not that I can think of," Bliss said wrapping his arms around her waist. "What do you think, Athene?"

"I'll think about it tonight," Athene answered, shooting Bliss a disappointed frown. "While we're waiting though, Slater, go get me an apple." Scarlette raised her eyebrows and smirked at Slater, making him blush in embarrassment.

"No," Slater answered Athene. "Get your own apple." Scarlette gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod of approval.

"Excuse me?" Athene said, standing up out of her seat. "I asked you to do something, O'Brien, so _do it_."

"No," Slater said again, his conviction growing. "Shut up and get your own apple, woman." Bass and Caspian stood together and walked back towards the food, pretending to peruse the selection of fruit.

"Just get her the apple, Slater," Bliss said quietly.

"No," Slater nearly shouted. "I'm tired of being ordered around!"

"Please just do it," Bliss pleaded.

"No," Athene's voice had fallen to an icy whisper. "He's right. He is a grown boy, and can do what he wants. I'll get my own apple." Pushing herself away from the table, Athene stood up and walked purposefully over to the fruit, brushing past the tributes from district four and grabbing an apple. Stalking back to the table, Athene threw herself back into her seat.

"Oh, look," Slater smirked, winking at Scarlette. "You can even get your own apple. She's getting to be such a big girl." Athene rubbed the side of the apple, polishing it until it gleamed in the light shining down from above the table.

"On second thought," Athene said thoughtfully. " I don't want the apple anymore, please, you take it." She held the apple out to her fellow tribute, fixing him with a hard stare. Isis immediately stood and quickly left the room, followed by Kayn, and even Bliss who was forced to lift Scarlette off of his lap to get away.

"No, I don't want an apple." Slater's eyes followed Scarlette out of the room before sweeping the perimeter, quickly realizing the absence of any human life in the room besides Athene and himself.

"I insist," Athene hissed.

"Fine," Slater said, snatching the apple from her hand and taking a huge bite off of the side. "I'll eat the stupid apple."

Just as Slater went to swallow the mouthful of fruit, Athene's fist shot forward with terrible ferocity, connecting with his throat and sending him reeling to the floor, his body jerking wildly as he choked on the apple. Kicking him onto his back, Athene knelt on his stomach, watching his face turn an alarming shade of red as he struggled to breath after the vicious assault. Just before he would have blacked out Athene stood up, allowing him to roll over, cough up the offending fruit, and take a deep, rattling breath. "Next time," Athene said, walking toward the door. "Just do what I say."

* * *

**Andelin Brown** and **Bandit Highland**

* * *

"Do you really think building a fire is that important?" Andelin asked over Bandit's shoulder. Ever since lunch had ended the boy had been following his district partner around the gymnasium, and while she didn't mind him most of the time, his incessant questions were getting on her nerves.

"What if it's cold in the arena?" Bandit asked, doing her best to curb her irritation.

"Oh, good point," Andelin said, sitting down and trying to build a fire of his own. "So you think it's going to be cold? Why do you think that?" Bandit bit her tongue. If Bandit's mother were here she would no doubt bring up the story about her and her own mother, Bandit's grandma Brindle.

The story always started with Chanelle walking excitedly into grandma Brindle's old sitting room. When Brindle would look up from her sewing and acknowledged Chanelle's presence, the younger of the two would immediately launch into a series of small, meaningless questions. It would always start with, "How are you, mother?" and go on to, "What are you sewing today?" "Did you see me ride the new horse?" "I read that book you gave me, it was very nice, where did you hear about it?" and other such trivial things. Finally, instead of cutting her off and telling her to leave, Brindle would interrupt her daughter with a question of her own. "How are _you, _Chanelle?" At that moment Chanelle would deflate and tell her mother whatever it was she actually wanted to talk about, whether it was disagreements with friends, a particular wrongdoing, or a small, creeping depression. "So," Chanelle would say to Bandit. "The moral of that story is that if someone won't stop asking you questions, it's probably because they want _you _to ask _them _a question. It's your job to figure out what that question is, and that will be left to do is listen.

Letting her small fire die out, Bandit turned to Andelin and waited for a moment until he stopped talking. "What's going on, Andelin?" she asked in a calm, measured voice. "Have you heard something?"

"Yes," Andelin admitted with a sigh, slumping onto the ground dramatically.

"You can tell me," Bandit assured him.

"The career pack is recruiting a healer," he gushed. "And the first person that they asked turned them down. I think I could do it."

"Wow," Bandit said. "Do you want to? Do you want to be a career?"

"I think it's my best shot at survival," Andelin moaned, the words seemingly giving him physical pain.

"You should do it then," Bandit said. "Just walk up and ask."

"What?!" Andelin yelled, shocked at the idea. "Just walk up and _ask?_"

"Yes," Bandit said, turning back to her half-built fire. "They'll appreciate your boldness."

"Or they'll kill me," Andelin said, though he still stood up and brushed himself off. "Thanks for the advice, wish me luck!" Bandit smiled as the smallish boy walked in the direction of several careers, walking with the 'class and style' that Magnus had taught him on the train.

"What do you want?" Isis asked Andelin as he approached them, trying to look intimidating even though her eyes kept flicking worriedly toward the dining room.

"I heard you guys are in the market for a healer," Andelin said, his voice cracking embarrassingly at the end of his statement. "I'm here to volunteer myself for the position."

"Why do you think you can do it?" Kayn asked, though he already knew about the boy from the several trainers he had visited earlier, and was already planning on accepting him into the group.

"My parents owned a store back in ten," Andelin explained nervously. "We dealt mostly with edible plants, but we had an entire section dedicated to natural medical remedies, and I was in charge of it." Bliss nodded, impressed, though he was as distracted as Isis.

"Okay, well, you're in," Kayn said, reaching out and grabbing the kid's hand. "Welcome to the careers." Andelin jumped into the air, whooping with excitement.

"How many does that give us?" Bliss wondered aloud, counting out the group on his fingers. "There's me, Scarlette, Isis, Kayn, Andelin, Caspian, Bass, Athene, and Slater."

"That's nine," Isis said. "Nine careers." Bliss whistled, amazed.

"I don't know about you, but I think the odds are definitely in our favor."

* * *

_That night Andelin wiggled farther into the depths of the many blankets piled on his bed, smiling to himself. Me, he thought, a career! Magnus had been so proud when he found out about Andelin's success, and his smile had been more of a reward to Andelin than the escort would ever know. Nothing could ruin this moment. Suddenly, Andelin heard a familiar chime. The elevator doors. That was odd, he thought, considering that everyone living on this floor had already gone to bed. The quiet darkness of the night persisted for a moment before it was broken by footsteps sounding in the hallway outside of the bedrooms, the ominous sound growing louder as it drew closer to Andelin's door. "Hello?" Andelin called into the dark. "Who's there?" The doorknob turned painfully slowly and completely silently; the sound of the air rushing past Andelin was the only indication that the door had been opened at all. Rolling off of his bed, Andelin crawled underneath the large wooden frame and tried to find the location of the specter. The footsteps continued around the edge of the bed, stopping on the side opposite Andelin's position. Andelin held his breath, the icy claws of fear clutching his whole body as he shivered under the bed. _

_The sounds stopped. _

_Nothing happend for several minutes, but Andelin finally heard the soft sound of the door closing. Whoever it had been, they were gone. Finally able to breathe again, Andelin's body was overcome by uncontrollable spasms and without warning he spilled the contents of his stomach under the bed. Andelin wiped his mouth and started to slowly slide out from under the bed and away from the mess, his head clearing the edge of his enormous hiding place and pushing out into the cold air of his room. Sliding along the floor even farther, the boy went to sit up, only to be met by a shapeless mass from above. His head immediately snapped back and hit the floor, bursts of muted color crowding his vision. Andelin tried to scream, he tried to call for help, but the sound was muffled by the same mass that had forced him to the ground; what he now realized were his own blankets. The blankets that were still warm with his own body heat were now stifling, choking the life out of the boy. Andelin pushed with all of his might, trying to unseat his attacker, but he was quickly stilled by the cold touch of steel. The knife held in his attacker's hand was raised into the air and brought down, plunging through the air until it punched into his stomach. Andelin ceased his resistance and lay twitching underneath the blankets, feeling the blood, his blood, pour from his wound and onto the cold floor. Finally the pain stopped. He could no longer feel the blankets, or even the weight of his attacker._

_He couldn't feel anything._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

* * *

**RIP Andelin**

**-IVV**


	20. Second Day of Training: The Aftermath

**Training Day 2**

* * *

An explosion of activity erupted on the morning of the tributes' second day of training. Upon awakening, the tributes were rushed straight from their beds and into separate, private counseling rooms where Capitol officials stood in their crisp, grey suits, waiting to grill the kids with questions about the night before. At first the officials wouldn't tell them why they were being treated this way; why everyone had the same startled look in their eyes. Once the interviews were over however, the reason was revealed.

The boy from ten, Andelin, was dead. It wasn't an accident, it wasn't suicide; it was murder.

Marsh and all the other tributes now stood grouped together in the middle of the gymnasium, surrounded by strangers. The only person that Marsh recognized among the officials was a thin woman with shining platinum hair. Though she wasn't dressed in her usual array of fanciful Capitol garb, there was no mistaking the Head Gamemaker. "We have a few announcements," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "Pertaining in part to the events of last night, but mostly to the action we will take in the future."

"This morning at precisely seven twenty-two the boy known as Andelin was found dead next to his bed, tangled in his sheets," she explained quickly, her voice regaining the confidence it had held earlier in the day. "The cause of death was a stomach wound created by a small knife procured from the training center. While there is no substantial evidence against any of you, we are certain that the perpetrator is among your ranks. Let it be known that we certainly do _not _condone this act, and whoever you are we are _very _disappointed." Marsh couldn't believe his ears. One of the Capitol's beloved tributes had been murdered before the Games even began, and all she could say was that they were _disappointed? _He wasn't the only one who drew that same conclusion.

"Disappointed?" Athene snorted from her place on the other side of the group of tributes. "Aren't we _supposed _to kill each other?" The tributes surrounding the girl from two quietly shuffled away from her, leaving her in plain view of the Gamemaker.

"Not until the Games begin," Virgo yelled sharply, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. "Now, though this was an excessively _unfortunate_ event, we cannot halt the Games altogether. Your training will continue, and you will have your interviews as scheduled."

"What if the killer strikes again?" This time the tribute brave enough to speak up was the dead boy's district partner, Bandit, who stood oddly calm amid the frightened looks of those around her.

"None of you have anything to fear," Virgo immediately assured them. "Teams of technicians are installing cameras all over the tower as we speak, and every hall, doorway, and elevator will be guarded by peacekeepers around the clock. Rest assured, this will _never _happen again."

"Where are the mentors?" Bliss asked. "They should be here."

"That is an excellent question," Virgo said, nervously flipping the pages of a small black book. "Both your mentors and escorts have been transported to an undisclosed location where they are being briefed on the situation and how they should react to it. They will be back tomorrow morning." The way the Gamemaker avoided eye contact with the group of tributes made Marsh suspicious. Whatever was going on with the mentors and escorts, it must be much more serious than a briefing.

After a few more minutes of discussion the tributes were dismissed to their training. Marsh wandered over to the camouflage station, though his eyes swept the entire room. With everyone back to training, the room looked almost exactly the same; the hoard of peacekeepers patrolling the gymnasium was the only indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened at all. Marsh couldn't help but wonder if his death would be any different. Would anything change? Or would people just go on living like they were now? Shaking off the feelings of dread, Marsh turned back to the trainer. He was learning how to camouflage himself in a desert environment, and he needed to pay attention.

* * *

**Cable Kelvin**

* * *

Cable slipped into the cold, clear water of the training pool and began the simple stroke that the trainer had taught him the day before. He wasn't going to get any awards for style, but at least he didn't thrash around and squeal for help like he had during his first lesson. After a few laps Cable's muscles started to ache, forcing him to lift himself onto the edge of the pool and take a break. Wiping the water from his eyes, Cable scanned the room, double-checking his mental list of the other tributes. The foremost question in his mind, and most likely in the minds of everyone else, was who had been the one to kill Andelin. Not only had the boy from ten been skinny as an electrical wire, he had also been exhausted from his work on the obstacle course, so almost every single tribute would have been capable of doing the job. Why would any of them do it though? Cable's train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of his district partner. "Can I join you?" Scarlette asked, sliding down next to him before he could answer. Cable's cheeks flamed red as he turned his head away from the girl in her revealing bathing suit.

"I thought you were going to look at archery today?" Cable asked, splashing his hands awkwardly in the water.

"Oh, _everyone's _practicing archery today," Scarlette gushed. "Besides, you looked lonely. You looked like you needed to _talk_." The girl kept her dazzling eyes locked on Cable's face as her hands floated up to tie her long hair into a bun on top of her head. "Who do you think did it?" she asked excitedly.

"I really don't know," Cable said, finally allowing his eyes to travel across the water and up to his partner's face. He physically squirmed under the tension of sitting next to the beautiful girl, the uncontrollable shiver betraying his nerves. "It could have been anyone."

"It really could have," Scarlette admitted, scooting uncomfortably close toe Cable. "Personally, I think it was Athene. She hasn't admitted it to anyone yet, but she was really fighting the idea of having Andelin in with the careers yesterday." While Scarlette's voice usually carried a light, sly tone, something about her comment on Andelin's death sounded different. It was lower, quieter, and not as confident. It was real.

"Why would she bother killing him now though?" Cable asked, partly to himself. "Why not just wait until the Games?"

"You know what question has really been pressing _me _lately?" Scarlette asked back, smiling flirtatiously and rubbing his shoulder. "Why you've spent so much time in this pool." Cable stiffened up.

"Oh," he stammered. "No reason." Pushing himself into the water, Cable floundered for a moment before slowly and steadily making his way toward the opposite end of the pool. Just as he reached his destination, Cable turned to see Scarlette dive into the pool and swim almost the entire length in half the time it had taken him.

"I know you're hiding something," she whispered in his ear, pressing herself against him. "You can trust me. You know that, right?" Cable swallowed hard, his breath coming in deep, unsteady heaves.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "I'll tell you, but you have to tell me something first."

"What do you want to know?" Scarlette asked, splashing him playfully.

"How'd you learn to swim like that?"

"Oh, is that all?" Scarlette laughed, a genuine, deep-throated chuckle. "One of my… friends back in three had a pool." Cable blushed furiously as he remembered her reputation back in the district. What would his mother say if she saw him sitting next to Scarlette Blake like this? "Now tell me," Scarlette continued. "What's with the swimming?"

"Well," Cable mumbled. "My sister told me it might be a good idea. If there's water in the arena a lot of people will have a lot of trouble, and I don't want to be one of those people." It was only a half lie, and it was probably the most convincing one he had ever told. He didn't really expect her to keep pressing the issue.

"Is that all your sister said?" Scarlette asked sweetly. "I couldn't help but notice the papers you were carrying on the train." Cable let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. So she knew.

"Look," he said, his nerves causing his voice to crack. "I don't really want to talk about it right now." He looked at her, eyes wide, wondering if she would accept that answer. Scarlette's shoulders slumped, and she looked dejected, but she still answered happily.

"Oh, that's fine, I understand." Leaning over, the older girl put a hand on Cable's chest and pressed him down onto the floor. Crawling over him, she planted a slow, sweet kiss on his lips before whispering huskily into his ear. "When you decide to trust me, I'll be ready."

Cable watched as the girl let her wet hair out of its bun and squeezed the water out of it and onto the floor of the gymnasium. The eyes of all the men in the room, peacekeepers included, followed her as she walked the length of the room in her dripping wet two-piece suit. The girls in the room weren't as thrilled.

* * *

**Rhia Davis**

* * *

Rhia sat quietly, tying a small, simple knot. It was boring, and she'd tied the same knot dozens of times, but she didn't feel like going anywhere else. She didn't need weapons training, she didn't need help with edible plants, she wasn't going to be using camouflage, and building a fire had never been hard for her. All she needed to do during training was fly under the radar and hope she wouldn't be targeted by the careers. After seeing Athene bully her teammates into submission, Rhia had immediately given up her previous thoughts of allying with them. The only thing less effective than a team with bad members was a team with a bad leader.

"Hey!" The voice came from behind Rhia's left shoulder and she turned to see the couple from eight approaching quickly.

"What do you want?" Rhia asked, turning back to her knot.

"We want _you_, Rhia," Colleen said simply. "We're forming an alliance, and you could be one of our greatest additions."

"She's right," Aden said, nodding in agreement. "With you we could take down the careers, but without you we could have a lot of trouble."

"Why should I bother?" Rhia asked. "Why shouldn't I just let all of you fight it out alone?"

"Because we can't let them win again," Aden said firmly. "Their districts don't need the rewards, and ours _do. _We have to fight for the people at home."

"How inspiring," Rhia yawned. "Do you have anyone else?"

"Yes, we have ourselves, your partner Chase, and Tanita, the girl from nine, just agreed a few minutes ago." The two looked at Rhia, nervously awaiting her reply.

"No," Rhia finally said, watching their friendly smiles slowly fade. "I'm sorry, I just can't see it being worth it. Think about it, the five of us winning against _nine_ careers? I don't think so."

"There aren't nine anymore," Aden blurted out. "They don't have a healer, so they only have eight." Rhia's eyes narrowed. The boy from eight seemed much too comfortable with that answer.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," Rhia stated.

"It's Aden, right?" all three of tributes jumped at the sound of the newcomer, the boy from nine.

"Yeah, that's right," Aden said suspiciously.

"I've heard you're forming an alliance," Kayn continued in a hushed voice, continuously looking over his shoulder at the other careers. "I _know _one of them killed that kid, one of the careers, and what's going to stop them from doing the same to me in the arena? I want in with you."

"Of course," Colleen said. "We'd love to have you, we're glad you came around." Rhia stared at the pair from eight. Andelin's death seemed to be playing out very well for them, and if they _were_ the instigators of the brutal murder, they were more of a force to be reckoned with than she had supposed.

"I'm in too," Rhia said quickly. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, she thought to herself, watching her new teammates' eyes light up with a savage glee.

She would definitely need to keep them as close as possible.

* * *

**Till Umber**

* * *

Till smashed a small club against the side of a dummy's head, watching the small green light behind its eyes flash yellow, instead of the desired red.

"If you're not going to hit hard, you have to know where to hit," the weapons trainer intoned for what seemed the fiftieth time that morning.

"I hit it where you told me to," Till growled, frustrated.

"Yeah, you hit it, but you hit it like a girl." Till snarled at the man's comment and tossed the club to the side, stomping away from the station. Maybe he wouldn't be able to beat a career to death with a stick, but there was one thing he could do. Build a fire.

Till's relationship with fire was multifaceted, and most people couldn't comprehend his mix of fear, exhilaration, and respect for the destructive element. While fire had taken everything from Till, his family, his home, and his future, he was still left in awe of its power to do so. All it had taken was an infinitesimal spark, and the world had changed forever. Who knows what the people killed in the accident could have achieved in their future? Who knows how different the world would be if they had been allowed to be a part of it? Fire didn't care about these questions though, fire was a natural force that didn't care who you were, it didn't bother with how you looked, or where you lived, it was all-powerful and impartial.

Sitting down at the fire making station, Till worked and worked, finally creating a small blaze after several impatient minutes. Gazing into the flickering light, he felt the memory of the accident roll over him. The screaming, the smell of burning flesh stinging his eyes, the smoke obscuring his vision, and all around him the flames.

"Put that out!" the trainer screamed, her eyes reflecting the fire that had escaped the boundaries set for what was supposed to be a small campfire. Till walked lazily over to the emergency water supply and cranked it open, letting the cold water run slowly onto the flames. The water quickly quenched the small blaze, leaving nothing but the burned pieces of sticks and grass to slowly disintegrate and blend together in the puddle of water. "What were you thinking?" the trainer yelled. "You could have hurt someone!" Turning on the small woman, Till fixed her with a murderous glare.

"I know," he said, watching the color drain from her face as she realized who he was. "Fire can be very… dangerous." Till looked up to see Lannah walking quickly toward them, a look of unhindered worry creasing her soft features.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, taking his hand.

"Everything's fine," Till answered, his anger slowly dissipating.

"Come here," Lannah directed pulling him over to a quiet corner of the gymnasium. "We haven't gotten to talk about last night yet." Just then Scarlette Blake sauntered past on her way to the fire building station, snorting in disgust as Till straightened up in order to look taller for her benefit.

"You wish," she smirked, rolling her eyes at the scarred youth. Lannah watched the light in Till's eyes fade at the girl's comment, leaving dark pools of familiar hatred.

"Don't pay attention to her," Lannah said, physically pulling him farther away from Scarlette. "She's cheap; not worth caring about."

"That's easy for you to say," Till grumbled under his breath.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lannah questioned, confused.

"Nothing, what did you want to talk about?" Till said quickly, avoiding the question.

"I wanted to talk about last night," Lannah said quietly, hating that she was forced to ask her next question. "Was it you? Did you kill Andelin?"

"No!" Till exclaimed. "Why would you even ask that? Is that how you see me?"

"I just had to make sure," Lannah sighed, her relief at this answer as clear as day. "Who do you think did it then?" she asked. "It had to have been one of the careers, right?"

"No, that doesn't make sense," Till said. "I saw them together, he was one of them, why would they kill one of their own?"

"Well if it wasn't any of them, who was it?"

"I think it was someone from eight," Till said confidently. "And if it wasn't either of them, it was someone from their little posse. Andelin was going to be the career pack's healer, and it boosts eight's chances if the careers don't have one."

"That makes sense," Lannah said, eyeing the tributes in question warily. "It didn't work very well if it was them though, the careers bullied that girl from twelve into being their healer. The poor thing looked like she was going to faint again."

"She'd better watch her back then," Till said darkly.

* * *

**Mercedes Virgo**

* * *

Virgo stared out of the hovercraft's side window, watching the ground far below fly past at alarming speeds. Her mind was in a frenzy, mulling over the President's words, making sure all the new safety precautions had been set in place, and wondering what the team of Gamemakers and specially trained peacekeepers were going to do once they arrived in district ten. However, even with all of her worries crowded into her mind at once, she kept coming back to the same question. Which one of the little wretches had done it? She had gone over the boy's file as soon as she heard he was dead, but he wasn't one of the 'special cases' outlined in the tribute information. It was tremendously confusing, and Virgo knew she wouldn't be able to rest until the answer was revealed.

"Virgo, we're almost there," Vuitton, one of the accompanying Gamemakers, said. Vuitton was high up in the ranks of Gamemakers, specializing in the designing of traps and mutts in the arena. He was a tall, serious-looking man with a large, Roman nose and a face that looked like it had been carved out of alabaster. It was also rumored that he was close to the President, a rumor that forced all of his colleagues to tread carefully in his presence.

"Thank you, Vuitton," Virgo said, standing up from her seat and walking toward a large group of peacekeepers in uncharacteristically bland uniforms. In fact, if she didn't know any better, they would seem to be normal, albeit intimidating ranchers from district ten. "We're going in shortly," she said, addressing the group. "We will _not _be noticed, do you understand? If anyone even has the slightest suspicion of what we are doing, it will take weeks to quiet down the riots." Virgo stood silently, waiting for the hovercraft to touch down in the field they had located next to their destination. When it did, the large loading doors opened and the group filed out into an inky black, starless night.

* * *

**Miles Taylor**

* * *

Miles Taylor sat up in his bed, awakened by the sound of his brother climbing down from the bunk above. "Matt, it's the middle of the night, what are you doing?" Miles asked, watching the younger boy's shadow block out the tiny amount of light streaming into the room through a crack in the door.

"I heard something outside," Matt whispered. "In the field. I want to go see what it is."

"What did it sound like?" Miles asked again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pushing his large frame into a standing position in the small room.

"It was really loud," Matt said excitedly. "At least, loud enough to scare all the animals in the south side barn." Miles took a deep breath and let it out in a long, tired sigh.

"Fine, I'll go check on it," he said. "But if this is a joke, and you woke me up for no reason, you're doing my chores for a week."

Miles walked across the old, familiar floor toward the back door of the long, low house, fumbling to slip on a pair of large, muddied boots before he opened the door and slipped outside. Shutting the door as quietly as he could, Miles walked across the lawn and pulled open the gate into the pasture. So far he had seen nothing, and even though he was exhausted he relished the idea of a week without chores. Stomping across the uneven ground, Miles was swallowed up by the darkness as he drew farther and farther away from the small light outside of the house. Turning around, the seventeen year old went to check the barn.

That was when the first hand fell on his shoulder.

Spinning around, Miles knocked the hand away and slammed his fist into the person's jaw, knocking him to the ground. He started to run, but was stopped by a voice cutting through the night. "What's your name?" It was a woman's voice, and she seemed accustomed to authority.

"Miles Taylor," Miles said, walking backwards toward the house. "Who are you?"

"He's the one," the woman said, not bothering to answer his question. "Get him." Miles turned and ran as fast as he could, reaching the house just as a blow between the shoulders sent him slamming into the closed door.

"Help!" he screamed as he was dragged back toward the field by several pairs of strong arms. A gloved hand clamped down over his mouth to keep him from screaming again, but it was too late. Miles' father had appeared in the doorway into the house.

"Let him go!" the man yelled, charging forward with what appeared to be one of Mrs. Taylor's meat cleavers. He didn't even make it two steps before he was hit by a projectile fired from somewhere in the darkness, the small dart knocked him to the ground where he stayed, jerking violently.

"Get off of me!" Miles yelled, though the sound was muffled and earned him a blow to the stomach. He struggled mightily with his captors as they continued dragging him away from his father, but their grip was unyielding.

"Okay, phase one was handed to us on a silver platter, gentleman," a man's voice sounded. "Get to work on phase two and meet us back on the craft when you're finished."

* * *

**Mercedes Virgo**

* * *

Virgo stared as the boy was hauled into the hovercraft and tossed into the containment unit they had installed for him. Though he was taller, and had better muscle definition, the boy's face was as close to the previous boy from ten as they had found in the entire district. "Who are you?" the boy yelled, understandably angry at his abduction.

"Calm down," Virgo said quietly, taking a seat across from him and staring into his eyes. "Congratulations, Miles Taylor, you have been chosen to take part in the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games."

"What?" Miles asked, slumping dejectedly into the corner of the cage. "Andelin Brown was already reaped."

"This is privileged information, so count yourself lucky that you even get to know," Virgo said. "Andelin Brown was killed sometime last night, and so is unable to take part in the Games. No one can know that such a lapse in security occurred, so from now on you are Andelin Brown."

"Are you kidding?" Miles asked, his eyes wide in disbelief. "People will know that I'm missing, my family will come looking for me, you'll never get away with it! If you let me go, I swear I won't tell anyone. Just hold another reaping, people will understand."

"If we held another reaping," Virgo said cautiously. "We would have to admit that he was murdered in the first place, an act that diminishes our power and could potentially cause a spark of rebellion in the district. If we said it was suicide, it would seem that the Games weren't as glorious and desirable as they are, which could have the same result. This is the only way. As to people looking for you, we have that taken care of." Miles' mouth fell open as he realized what the men had meant when they spoke about 'phase two.'

"No!" he cried, standing up and smashing his arms against the walls of his prison. Virgo jumped, almost falling out of her chair as the door of the cage shuddered under the impact.

"Stop that," she tried to yell over the sound of his incoherent screaming. "You're hurting yourself!" Her pleas were ignored. Finally she held up a hand and signaled a peacekeeper who immediately drew a small gun and shot an even smaller dart through the bars and into the boy's neck. Miles swatted at the sting as if it was an annoying insect, his eyes suddenly dilating as he slumped down onto the ground, unconscious.

The troop of disguised peacekeepers piled back into the hovercraft moments later, reporting that the job was done, and that they hadn't been seen. Vuitton signaled the pilot and sat down next to Virgo who was once again facing the window. "A job well done, Mercedes," he said coolly. "You are an inspiration to us all." Virgo ignored the compliment.

"Are you sure it was the right course of action?" she asked. "Maybe we should have held another reaping."

"This was the only course of action that pleased the President's orders, don't forget that."

"I suppose," Virgo sighed. I wonder what would happen, she thought, if something _didn't _go the President's way. Her thoughts were quickly whisked away as she watched the small, flickering firelight inside of the Taylor household blossom into a raging bonfire.

Four people were down there. The boy's father, mother, twelve year-old brother, and five year-old sister were all burning to death at her order. Virgo looked over her shoulder, her eyes passing over her unconscious captive, the team that had carried out her twisted plan, and the man who had congratulated her on it. She turned back to the window. They sickened her with their lack of remorse, but not as much as she sickened herself. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass, Virgo gazed upon the monster who had destroyed countless lives in order to preserve her own. Her long nails dug into the soft flesh of her clenched hands, stripes of blood falling across her white palms. The Games will end eventually, she assured herself; it will all end. It has to, she thought, because if it doesn't end, I will.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello all! I loved reading all of your reviews for the last chapter. The web grows more and more tangled the farther we get in. What could possibly happen next?**

**I'll be posting some new polls on my blog, so keep an eye out for those!**

**Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	21. Last Day of Training

**The Last Day of Training**

* * *

Scarlette Blake

* * *

Scarlette sat on the edge of the pool, chewing her bottom lip. The night before had been awkward at best, and Cable still hadn't spilled the beans on whatever information he was hiding. It was frustrating, especially because it took time away from getting into Bliss's good graces. Just as she was about to slip back into the water and renew her efforts with the boy, a large hand was placed on her lower back as its owner, Sawyer Coleman from six, sat next to her, wearing nothing but a pair of swimming shorts.

"Hey," he smiled. "I couldn't help noticing how good you look in that swimsuit." Scarlette giggled and punched him playfully on the arm.

"Oh, stop," she laughed superficially, the picture-perfect form of a flirtatious girl.

"I'm Sawyer," he introduced himself, flexing his muscles before jumping into the pool and encircling Scarlette's submerged legs with his arms. "There's a rumor going around that your with the boy from one, is that true?" Scarlette giggled again, keeping the friendly smile stuck on her face. However annoying this situation might be, this boy could be of some use.

"No, that's not true," Scarlette said, dropping her voice to a whisper and adding a conspiratorial wink. "I'm stuck on the guy from my district, Cable Kelvin." Sawyer looked truly stunned.

"Him?" he asked incredulously. "The scrawny little fish bone that can't even tread water?" Scarlette looked over to where Cable was indeed floundering in the middle of the pool. Poor boy.

"Yes," she gushed. "I just don't know what it is about him, but I'm hooked."

"Maybe I could convince you otherwise," Sawyer said. Supporting his body weight with his arms that stood close to Scarlette's hips, Sawyer lifted himself halfway out of the pool, droplets of water cascading down his muscled physique, and kissed her. Too bad, Scarlette thought as his lips touched her's, he's a pretty good kisser. Pulling back from the boy, she quickly arched her back and slapped him in the face as hard as she could, forcing him back into the water.

"I have a boyfriend!" she yelled as soon as he surfaced, the glaring red mark of her hand burning on his cheek. Before she could continue her verbal abuse, peacekeepers lifted her into the air by her arms and pulled her away from the pool and into a small side room, closing the door noisily behind them.

"Aggressive behavior directed at your fellow tributes will result in ten minutes of solitary cool down," one of the peacekeepers said flatly, no emotion registering on his face.

"What?" Scarlette asked sharply, still confused by the rapid turn of events. "You're putting me on timeout because I slapped that creep?"

"Yes."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"Will you let me out early for good behavior?"

"No."

"Do you ever say anything because you _want _to say it, not just because you have to?"

"No."

* * *

Tanita Humbrid

* * *

Tanita stood at the weapons range with Rhia, hurling axes at a target. Aden had suggested that the 'muscle' of the new alliance train together for the entirety of the day, as they would need to be familiar with each other's strengths and weaknesses. Tanita didn't mind. Though the blonde, emotionless girl from seven had initially put her off, they were getting along surprisingly well, and beside the fact that it was humbling having to practice with someone so far her senior with weaponry, Tanita was having a good time.

"Try releasing a little earlier," Rhia advised, hefting an axe in her right arm and burying it in the middle of a target ten yards away. "That will help your accuracy."

"Does it really matter where you hit someone with one of these?" Tanita said, lifting up one of the axes and raising an eyebrow. "It's not like anyone would be much of a threat with one of these in their leg."

"So you'd think," Rhia answered. "But the adrenaline could carry someone long enough for them to turn on you if you get too close. If you're going to throw a weapon, you want to make sure it's going to kill the target on the first hit."

"Or you could just bring two, and hit them with both," Tanita smirked.

"That would work," Rhia said, chuckling quietly. "Hey, I want to ask you something."

"What?" Tanita asked, brushing her long hair out of her face and picking up a javelin.

"When Aden and Colleen approached you, did they say anything about Andelin?"

"Yes, actually," Tanita answered, puzzled by the question. "They were pretty clear that the careers were more vulnerable now that they didn't have a healer, and that our alliance had an even greater chance of beating them into the dust. Why?"

"Oh, I was just wondering," Rhia said, sitting down and giving her arms a rest. "Who do you think did it? Killed Andelin?"

"Are you saying you think that one of them did it?" Tanita asked quietly, looking over her shoulder to make sure the pair weren't listening in on the conversation. "Aden or Colleen? To get us to join their little group?"

"I think so," Rhia admitted. "It makes sense to me." Tanita sat down next to her newfound ally, stunned by the idea.

"It actually does," Tanita mused. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little impressed."

"Impressed?"

"Yeah, impressed. They obviously came into this whole situation with a plan, and they're willing and able to deal with anything that deviates from that plan."

"Which is impressive, but not exactly encouraging for either of us," Rhia said. Just then a yell came from the station next to theirs, basic survival. It was Athene.

"You don't just _leave _the most promising alliance in the Games!" Athene screamed, alerting several nearby peacekeepers.

"I'm sorry," Kayn said resolutely. "I don't think this _is_ the most promising alliance anymore."

"Oh, you've found a more promising team then?" Isis asked, stepping forward next to Athene. "Who may I ask recruited you?"

"It doesn't make any difference, goodbye Isis, I wish you the best." Kayn walked away from the group of careers without looking back, leaving all of them staring daggers at him as he went.

"Bravo," Tanita said sarcastically as Kayn made his way over to them. "You were a little too nice though, right seven?" Rhia was still watching the careers, but she turned her attention back to her allies when Tanita addressed her.

"Kayn," Rhia said quietly, her voice filled with dread. "It's great having you as part of the team, but I think you just united the careers in a way that spells trouble for us."

* * *

Bandit Highland

* * *

Bandit stood in the elevator next to Miles Taylor, staring ahead at the shining streets of the Capitol as they were whisked down to the training gymnasium. He had arrived the night before, silent and stony; dead to the world. She had tried to talk to him then, but he didn't answer her questions or acknowledge her thoughts on the situation, he just sat and stared at nothing in particular.

When the elevator reached the bottom floor Bandit stepped out first, looking back to make sure Miles was following her. "It's okay," she said softly. "It's not as bad as you think." Miles walked past her and she followed him into the large, cavernous room.

"Are you in an alliance?" Miles suddenly asked, speaking for the first time since he had arrived.

"What?" baffled by his sudden change in attitude. "No, I'm not, why?"

"Well, sulking isn't going to get me home," Miles said matter-of-factly. "But teammates might do just that. You want to ally with me?"

"I don't know," Bandit replied, backing up and looking at her new partner for what felt like the first time. "I'll talk to my mentor about it. We can talk tonight." She had heard about the big alliances forming, and she wanted no part in their war. The two groups were going to batter themselves to pieces in their fight against each other, and hopefully that would make it easier for her to get home to her family.

"Okay," Miles said, walking away and directing himself toward Rhia, Kayn, and Tanita. "I'll see you around, Bandit."

Bandit walked over to the natural medicines station where Sawyer Coleman quickly joined her. "Hey," he said sitting down directly to her right. "I never got the chance to talk to you about, you know, a couple of nights ago. Andelin." Bandit drew a deep, shuddering breath and let it out in a long, annoyed sigh.

"Maybe that's because I don't particularly like you, Sawyer," she said stiffly.

"Oh, come on," he grinned. "Don't be like that, I'm just being friendly!"

"Sure you are." Bandit rolled her eyes. While his persistence _was _flattering, the flirting was getting on her nerves.

"So are you okay?" Sawyer asked. "It must have been hard to accept that he was gone, after getting to know him."

"Actually, it wasn't hard to accept at all," Bandit said, fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice. "I was the one who found him. I saw his eyes still wide open, I saw the bloodstains, and I saw the knife. It wasn't hard to accept that he was dead."

"Oh," Sawyer said, the pleasant smile falling from his face.

"Do you ever think about what it will be like?" Bandit burst out. "Being in the Games? Being surrounded by deaths as brutal as Andelin's _every day_, and living with the constant fear that you will be next?"

"No, actually," Sawyer said, looking down at the ground. "I try not to."

"Good for you," Bandit huffed.

"Sometimes I think about how terrible it would be to die in the arena," Sawyer continued seriously. "But then I think about how much _more _terrible it would be to win. To live the rest of your life with all of their blood on your hands." Bandit looked up and saw Sawyer's eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached out a hand and touched his arm.

"You're not the only one who thinks that," she said. "We're all scared of the same thing."

"The only thing worse that I can think of is getting killed by girl," Sawyer said, trying not to let his mask of sadness break into the wide grin threatening at the corners of his mouth.

"What is wrong with you?" Bandit gasped, exasperated. Sawyer chuckled and was about to answer when they were approached by the tributes from district eight.

"Hey guys," Colleen said, smiling. "How are you?"

"Oh, here it comes." Sawyer whispered dramatically. "They're going to invite us into their little super squad."

"We have six of the best tributes in the Games," Aden said, a little annoyed at Sawyer's mocking comment. "We have a real chance at upsetting the careers, and if we had you guys on board we'd have more than a chance, we'd be certain."

"Are you lumping yourselves in with the 'best tributes in the Games?' Because if you are, I might be a little skeptical," Sawyer smirked, winking at Colleen.

"Look," Bandit interrupted. "It's very flattering that you thought to ask me, but I'm going to have to turn you down. I can't see that situation ending well for you guys."

"Thanks for being honest," Colleen said, placing a calming hand on Aden's shoulder. "If you change your mind, come find us though, okay?" Bandit nodded and turned back to her work.

"What about you, big guy?" Aden asked, nodding at Sawyer. "You in?"

"I don't think so, _buddy_," Sawyer replied, mocking Aden's condescending tone. "I'm actually sticking with this hot, dangerous, and extremely intelligent girl right here, so I guess I'm spoken for." Bandit's face flushed red, making her glad that she had turned away from the group. She waited for the color to drain from her face before she turned around.

"If you're still looking for members though," she said to the two disappointed looking recruiters. "The new guy from my district, Miles Taylor, wants an alliance. In fact, I think he's trying to recruit your other members as we speak." Bandit gestured over to where Miles was chatting amiably with Kayn, Rhia, and even Tanita, who was miraculously smiling and laughing. Aden and Colleen immediately hurried toward the small group.

"Well _that _was awkward," Sawyer commented dryly, watching them leave.

* * *

Aden Hanran

* * *

Aden approached the group and was caught off guard by Tanita's surprisingly loud and infectious laugh, a sound that he hadn't heard before. "This is Miles, he's Andelin's replacement," Rhia said bluntly as soon as the couple arrived, making a space for Aden and Colleen in the tightly knit circle. "He wants in the team."

"Yeah, I do," Miles said, crushing Aden's hand during their brief handshake. "Anti-Careers. I like the idea."

"I'm glad," Aden said, putting an arm around Colleen.

"What's the plan?" Miles asked, staring at the two expectantly.

"The plan?" Aden asked, ill at ease by how frank the new guy was speaking.

"Yeah, the plan," Miles laughed, like he was talking to children. "For taking out the careers. Are we going to turn the tables on them at the bloodbath?"

"No," Colleen said immediately. "We're not taking an aggressive approach. It would only serve to hurt us in the long run."

"Well," Miles said, disappointed. "How very _conservative _of you. How are you getting rid of them? Are you just going to ask them to kill each other?"

"Look," Aden said defensively. "There's no need to insult anyone. We have a plan, and it will work out, just wait and see."

"Why should we have to wait?" Miles asked, sneering and stepping into Aden's personal space. Miles was at least a head taller than the other boy, and looking down at the group's 'leader' was an insult that nobody in the circle missed. "Why should we just trust you blindly?" Aden took a step back and looked to the other members for help. Tanita had her arms crossed defiantly, mirroring Miles' attitude, and Rhia looked searchingly at the two tributes from eight, obviously awaiting the answers to the stinging questions. It was Kayn that stepped in to help.

"Calm down," Kayn said, stretching an arm out in between the two angry young men and addressing Miles. "If you're going to be part of the team you have to know your place, and you just showed up. Your place is pretty low. Wait until we get to know you a little better, then we'll fill you in on the details, okay?" Miles took a deep breath and blew the air out of his nose in a long, angry puff.

"Fine," he said. "I guess that makes sense."

"I'm glad you see it that way," Aden said, his bravado returning at Kayn's interjection. He drew breath to continue but was spun around by Bliss's heavy hand before he got the chance.

"Hey there, ginger," Bliss smirked, referring to Aden's flaming red hair. The entire career pack stood together in an intimidating phalanx of muscle and confident smiles. "We heard you guys are pulling together a little _resistance._"

"What's it to you?" Kayn said, stepping forward once again.

"Shut up, traitor," Athene spat furiously. "You forfeited your right to talk when you chose the losing side."

"So what are you here for?" Colleen asked. "If you already knew?"

"We came to make sure you weren't feeling confident," Isis said simply. "And to make sure your little soldiers know how hopeless your cause is." She gestured at Rhia, Kayn, and Tanita.

"You guys are all talk," Aden laughed. "Just wait until we get in the arena, you'll be singing a different tune." Athene stepped forward and put a hand on Aden's chest, shoving him backward and breaking his hold on his fiancée. Clamping a hand around Colleen's neck, Athene dragged her forward off of her feet and dangled her over the hard floor. Rhia looked around alarmed, searching for the peacekeepers who should have been intervening, but the men in white suits couldn't see through the tightly grouped together teenagers.

"District eight," Athene seethed, keeping her eyes locked on Aden as Colleen tried to break the older girl's hold on her neck. "You are dirty, filthy little _mutts _and I am going to make sure you leave this world as slowly as possible." Aden surged forward, but was stopped by Bliss and Caspian before he could help Colleen. Finally Athene let the girl go and sent her crashing to the floor, gesturing for Bliss and Caspian to step apart and allow Aden to slide to Colleen's aid. "I'd tell you to watch your back," she continued. "But I don't think it will help." The Careers turned and began to walk away, but Athene had one last thing to say.

"By the way, I killed Andelin." Everyone within speaking distance, careers included, froze, paralyzed by her offhand way of admitting her role in the boy's cruel death. "He squealed like a stuck pig," she continued. "But there was no one there to help him. Still think we're 'all talk'?"

* * *

Skye Andronicus

* * *

Skye sat perfectly still, listening to argument taking place behind her. "Who was the last girl who spoke?" she asked the tall avox woman. "Tap on my shoulder the number of her district." She waited for a moment, and then felt two quick, controlled taps. It had been Athene then. Sawyer had told Skye all about the frightening girl from two, and hearing that she was the murderer among them didn't come as a surprise. Tears cascaded down Skye's cheeks.

It was all so horrible. Why hadn't anyone told her about the Games? Why was she the one picked, out of all the girls in district six, to play this demented game? When she first heard her mentor explain it, she hadn't believed him. Surely, no one would watch that for entertainment. She was wrong. It was real, and it was coming faster and faster every day.

Skye brushed away her tears and went back to her task of finding edible plants in what the trainer had said was a garden filled with various types of vegetation. "This one is fuzzy," Skye said, holding one of the leaves in the air. Hopefully the trainer was still in the same place, and would be able to see it. "It's kind of heavy for a leaf too, so my guess is that I can eat it."

"Yes," the trainer said kindly, though he always seemed on the verge of tears when he spoke to Skye. "It wouldn't do much for your body though, it almost wouldn't be worth eating."

"Oh," Skye said, disappointed. Feeling around in the plot of moist dirt, Skye felt a tall, fibrous plant and dug beneath it, producing several small, rough roots. "What about this one?"

"We've studied that one," the trainer said. "You answer your question, should you eat it?"

"Well," Skye mused, sitting back and pondering the question. "The roots aren't hard, so they wouldn't be hard to eat. They have little hairs growing on them, so they are probably ripe… I'll say yes, I would eat it."

"It's poison," the trainer sighed before she could take a bite. "You forgot to feel all the way along the stalk and inspect the flowers on top. If you had done that you would have known better."

"Well, I guess I'm dead then," Skye laughed bitterly, tossing the offending roots aside.

"You can do it," the trainer urged encouragingly. "You just need to focus. Don't get down on yourself, you could win."  
"Thanks," Skye said, though she didn't believe the man at all.

Footsteps approached Skye and she cocked her head to the side so that she could hear. "Hello," the voice said. A young boy, Skye thought, it must be one of the tributes then. "I'm Chase, from district seven."

"Hello, Chase," Skye answered. "I'm Skylar, but you can call me Skye."

"Okay," the boy said happily, flopping down on the ground to Skye's left. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find plants I can eat just by feeling them," Skye answered sadly. "I'm not very good."

"Oh, you'll get better!" Chase encouraged her. "You still have the private training with your mentor this afternoon, I bet they will be able to help you!"

"Thanks," Skye said, smiling at the boy's contagious attitude. "Maybe you could help me, are you in an alliance?" Skye knew she was grasping at straws, who would want to team with her?

"I am," Chase mused. "Wait, I bet the others would let in with our team!" Skye felt the boy jump up in excitement. "I'll be right back!" Skye felt the avox's hand on her shoulder.

"Is that an encouragement?" Skye asked. "Or a warning?" There was no answer. "Tap once if it was the first, and twice if it was the second." There was a moment of pause before Skye felt two taps on her shoulder: a warning.

* * *

**A/N**

**Ooooooh! Okay, here's how it's going to go. I'm going to write a quick chapter with the Training Scores, one for the Interviews, and then a Night Before chapter. THEN WE WILL BE IN THE GAMES. I'm getting really excited.**

**In the mean time, check out a Hunger Games Fanfic called "Riley's Choice" by mangesboy01. I did some beta reading for it, and let me tell you, it's fantastic!**

**That's all I have for now! Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	22. Training Scores

**Tribute Ranking: Disappointment and Elation**

* * *

Careers

* * *

Bliss, Isis, Slater, Athene, Scarlette, Caspian, and Bass all sat in the spacious, luxurious viewing room set aside for district one with their mentors, stylists, and escorts swarming around them. This was the moment they had all been waiting for; the moment that their real competition would be revealed. Finally, Julianette Dior's face appeared on the large, silver screen.

"Here we are again!" She announced excitedly, her glimmering, gold dusted curls bouncing with every dramatic movement of the woman's head. "Ready to announce the training scores given to our tributes based on their performance during the last few days. I must say that I am _particularly_ excited about this year!"

"Sure she is," Caspian commented sarcastically from his place on the long, low couch. "Just like she was _particularly _excited about last year." The mentors laughed in agreement but the escorts frowned disapprovingly, causing a fresh wave of laughter to sweep the room.

"The tributes are spectacular," Julianette continued. "And are bound to put on a _great _show during this year's Games. Here we go!" The whispers of excited tributes and clinking of crystal glasses faded away, leaving complete silence as Julianette announced the scores in a loud, clear voice.

_"Bliss Sparks. Nine."_

Everyone clapped lightly, though Bliss didn't seem impressed with his score.

_"Isis Carlisle. Seven."_

The silence resumed. The score was abnormally low for a career.

_"Slater O'Brien. Ten."_

A cheer went up from Slater's mentor, Alice, and was continued by several others in the room. Bliss, however, visibly tensed up as his own score was knocked from the top place.

_"Athene Harbrick. Eleven."_

Athene smiled, enjoying the thunderous applause and numerous congratulations that had erupted in the room. She was the best, and now everyone knew it.

_"Cable Kelvin. 5."_

The boy from district three's score was completely ignored as people continued to cheer for Athene.

_"Scarlette Blake. Ten."_

"How is that even possible?" Bliss blurted out without thinking. Everyone else turned their heads toward the girl. They were wondering the same thing.

"Oh, I have my ways," Scarlette purred, cuddling up to Bliss. "I managed to… persuade one of the Gamemakers to give me what I wanted." Isis snorted in disgust.

_"Caspian Devon. Ten."_

"I managed to… persuade them as well," Caspian said in a low, seductive imitation of Scarlette's earlier statement. Bass burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter at the shocked looks on everyone's faces.

"He's kidding."

_"Bass Shores. Nine."_

"Good work, everyone," Gold said as Julianette finished up the scores for the group. He placed his hands on Bliss's shoulders as he continued. "It seems we have quite the formidable pack this year. We'll see if the little peasant alliance can beat _that_."

"I don't think we have anything to worry about," Cage agreed, flashing a quick, wicked grin at Athene.

* * *

District 8

* * *

Colleen sat quietly, watching the career's predictably high training scores flash up on the screen. Whatever Aden said about how dysfunctional the career pack was this year, there was no denying that they were some of the most formidable individual tributes that had competed in the Games for quite some time. Vinette Channard, had been nervously tapping her fingers on the arm of a large green armchair, but as soon as the eleven showed up for the girl from two, she stopped and slumped backwards. "You're doomed," she whispered as she stared at the girl's portrait up on the screen.

"No, you most certainly are not," Emilys said firmly to the two tributes, glaring at the escort. "Don't let one number shake your resolve, darlings, all will be well."

"Yeah," Aden said, squeezing Colleen even closer to his side encouragingly. "We've got a good team. We don't need to worry."

_"Andrew Feller. Six."_

Colleen started to relax when the announcer continued past the careers. Athene's scores had alarmed her, and Colleen could still feel the girl's harsh grip around her neck.

_"Grace Feller. Six."_

"Identical scores for the twins, how poetic," Aden whispered to Colleen. "Sometimes I wonder if they are secretly the same person." The thought made Colleen laugh quietly; drawing odd looks from both Emilys and their stylists who stood nearby.

_"Sawyer Coleman. Eight."_

That wasn't a surprise; the boy was huge for his age. It really was a shame that he had refused to join the alliance.

_"Skylar Andronicus. Two."_

"Oh, dear," Vinette groaned sadly. "The poor girl really never had a chance, did she?"

_"Chase Rige. Six."_

"That's not too bad," Aden mused. "I was expecting a lot less."

_"Rhiannon Davis. Eleven."_

Aden jumped out of his seat, staring at the screen with his mouth wide open. "She's one of us," he said quietly. "She's one of _us_."

"I can't believe it," Colleen said, staring at the familiar, stone-faced expression of their ally on the screen.

"I can't believe it!" Julianette Dior shrieked from the screen. "An eleven from an outlying district! That is _very _impressive!"

_"Aden Hanran. Seven."_

Colleen kissed Aden on the jaw as they settled back down in their seats, still stunned by their ally's score. "Nice job."

_"Colleen Reyna. Four."_

This prompted another despairing groan from Vinette, but it was quickly silenced by a glare from Aden. "What?" the escort asked. "She'll be lucky to survive the bloodbath!"

* * *

District 9

* * *

Kayn and Tanita had exchanged a significant look when Rhia's number flashed on the screen. Her score meant two things: That they had a better chance of beating the careers than they had thought before, and they had some serious competition in their own alliance.

"There's two of you and only one of her," Kayn's mother said plainly when she noticed the two tributes' shared thought. "As long as you get the jump on her you'll be home free." Kayn and Tanita nodded in agreement. It was a dark thought, killing their friend, but it was necessary.

_"Kayn Topekh. Ten."_

Mrs. Topekh patted him on the shoulder approvingly and Clementine forced a quick, shrill giggle.

_"Tanita Humbrid. Nine."_

"Good," Kayn said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "We're one of the best teams in the Games!"

"Sure," Tanita said ironically. "Only, the other two better than us are on the same team."

"Which you could have been on, Kayn," Mrs. Topekh said, still put off by the idea of refusing the careers.

"Trust me, mom," Kayn said. "It's for the better that I am where I am."

_"Andelin Brown. Eight."_

"I thought his name was Miles," Tanita said immediately.

"It's _not_," Clementine said through clenched teeth. "His name is Andelin. Don't you remember watching the reaping?"

"But Andelin's dead," Kayn interjected. "Why is his picture up there?"

"Kayn," his mother said quietly. "Just drop it. Andelin is a fierce competitor who just earned an eight, don't think about him any other way."

_"Bandit Lee Highland. Eight."_

Tanita looked as if she wanted to comment, but she kept quiet. Something about the lies being spread about Andelin had put a damper on the conversation in the room.

_"Till Umber. Seven."_

"There's something off about him," Mrs. Topekh said, breaking the silence. "I don't know what it is, but I was talking to the Gamemakers earlier and they said the same thing. Tread carefully around that one."

_"Lannah Woolks. Six."_

"I really wish she would have joined our alliance," Kayn mused. "Guessing plants won't ever warrant a high score, but a six is the best I've ever seen for a survivalist."

"She'd probably just slow us down," Tanita retorted. "She's a lot like the girls back in nine." Oh, the ones you squeezed the livelihood out of? Kayn thought to himself. Tanita was getting nicer the more he got to know her, but every once in a while she would let something slip out that made him remember who she was.

_"Marsh Melonee. Four."_

"Now _that _makes sense," Tanita snorted. "All he did was run around and paint himself the whole time."

"Yeah," Kayn agreed, though his reaction was a little more disappointed than Tanita's outright mocking. "He really should have learned a few survival skills."

_"Serenity Gilbert. Three."_

There was a pause before Kayn's mother spoke. "She's a career?" the older woman asked incredulously. "How did that happen?"

"They forced her into the group after the accident," Kayn said, skirting the subject of Andelin's death. "She was the only skilled healer other than Lannah, and I guess they really wanted someone to patch them up."

"How odd," Mrs. Topekh muttered. "I'll talk to the other mentors and try to find out why the careers wanted a healer so badly. It must be some part in their strategy."

"Let us know if you find anything, okay?"

"Of course."

* * *

**A/N**

**This is probably the shortest chapter I've written since the prologue... you probably noticed. I just didn't feel like actually experiencing the scores would be dramatic, so I just added a short (longer for some) reaction for each tribute.**

**The next chapter will be the Interviews, so it might take a little longer than usual to write it all out. In fact, I may have to split it into two chapters. If you would rather I take some extra time to write it all into one long chapter, let me know, I'd be willing to do that.**

**The Night Before chapter that follows the Interviews will not include every tribute, it will be a select few. If you want a certain district to be included in that, let me know in your review and I'll consider it.**

**Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	23. Ladies and Gentleman

**Interviews**

* * *

The Coliseum, undoubtedly the largest building in the Capitol, featured prominently in the city's skyline; the enormous, golden, globe-shaped structure commanding the attention of all who gazed upon the wondrous city. On the evening of the tributes' interviews the outside perfectly reflected the radiance of the fading sun, but the inside was as dark as a moonless night, covering the people crowded inside in a shroud of blackened mystery. The buzz of anxiously shuffling feet and excited whispers swept through the crowd as the click of a woman's heels resounded from the stage.

"Hello?" a voice asked, the sound emanating from what seemed to be every nook and cranny in the building and silencing every sound from the audience. "_Is anybody there?_" On the last word of her statement, the face of the Capitol's golden girl Julianette Dior was projected onto every one of the various screens set high above the stage. One by one the spotlights blazed on, momentarily blinding the crowd until the full glory of the anxiously awaited production was finally revealed.

The screams were deafening.

Julianette pranced along the full length of the extravagantly decorated stage, stretching out her arms as if to absorb the people's shouts of praise and adoration. Her attire reflected what would later become the height of fashion in the Capitol: the plunging neckline, the fitted bodice, the three-quarter length sleeves, and diamonds glittering in every stitch, every seam of the entire display; her hair alone must have been two feet tall, and carried a priceless amount of the sparkling gems. Sweeping her arms upward, the host of the evening's celebration gestured toward the staggeringly high tower on which the interviews would take place: a monument of gleaming silver decorated with an elegant black staircase that curved up to the two high-backed chairs set at the tower's very highest point.

Dancing her way up the steps in time with the music blaring over the noise of the crowd, Julianette reached her own seat and sat primly down into it, crossing her legs and gesturing for everyone to quiet down. "Welcome, welcome," Julianette greeted, her distinctive singsong voice floating over the quickly calming crowd. The cameras slowly panned out wide enough to capture both seats on the small plateau, one filled, and one close to being so. "Welcome to the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games!" The small amount of control that the crowd had regained was lost as they fell once again into shameless revelry. "Some of you have undoubtedly heard of a young man named Cesar Flickerman, yes?" Julianette asked, smiling at the booing and hissing of the crowd. "He says that if _he _had my job, you would enjoy meeting your tributes much more. Well, I don't know about all of _you_, but _I'm_ having a pretty great time!" The crowd was now whipped into frenzy, and the sight of Cesar appearing on one of the large screens did nothing to help their composure.

"That's enough!" Juliannette said kindly after allowing the crowd to insult her rival for several minutes. "Let's not make this about him, he's just a boy after all!"

* * *

**Isis, D1**

* * *

"The first tribute I have for you this evening is the intelligent girl from district one," Julianette continued. "Ladies and gentleman, Isis Anne Carlisle!" Isis appeared from the side of the stage and began to climb the stairs, her shimmering blue dress reflecting spots of light into the crowd. "Hello, Isis," Julianette grinned, patting the seat beside her. "We're so glad you're here, do have a seat."

"Thank you, Ms. Dior," Isis said with a cold smile. "It's great to be here."

"Oh, call me Julianette, Dear," Julianette gushed, winking at the crowd. "Now, let's get right to it. There was a lot of drama at your reaping this year, can you explain that?"

"Well, my friend was initially planning to volunteer," Isis said coolly, looking very royal in the throne-like chair atop the pedestal. "But I knew that I needed to win the Games, and I wasn't going to let her take that away from me." The crowd applauded her answer, many of them nodding their heads, impressed.

"Why do you think, after all of the controversy, the reaping board chose you instead of your friend?"

"To tell you the truth, Julianette," Isis answered, leaning forward as if to share a dark secret. "I didn't leave it entirely in their hands." Julianette brought her hand to her mouth in an exaggerated gasp.

"Scandalous! Please tell us," she said, looking pointedly at the crowd.

"I broke into the office of reaping regulation the night before and switched the DNA file for my friend so that it would match my own," Isis smirked. "They probably meant to choose her, but the test matched my own DNA. I won with my brain, and that's how I'm going to win the Games." A loud cheer went up and Julianette patted Isis's hand approvingly.

"Well, how intriguing, I'll be watching for you during the Games!" Julianette stood and pulled Isis up with her. "Ladies and gentleman, Isis Anne Carlisle!"

* * *

**Bliss, D1**

* * *

"Next up we have a dashing young man from district one," Julianette said as Isis descended the staircase. "If his last name sounds familiar, it's because his uncle was on this same stage eleven years ago. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Bliss Sparks!" Bliss erupted from the side of the stage and jogged up the stairs, waving and grinning to the crowd as he reached the top.

"Hello Panem!" he yelled in greeting. "And hello to you, Julianette, you look lovely!" Julianette shrieked in happiness, kissing Bliss on both cheeks before sitting back down quickly.

"Oh, aren't you charming!" she exclaimed. "Now Bliss, we all want to know, what is it like having a victor as an uncle?"

"Well," Bliss said, rubbing his hands together. "The house is _great_." The crowd fell into fits of laughter, the reaction only causing Bliss's grin to grow wider. "And having the neighbors over for dinner always makes it an entertaining evening."

"Ooh," Julianette said, scooting forward in her seat. "Tell us about some of those conversations. Have any of your victor friends given you advice?"

"They have!" Bliss confirmed, leaning back in his chair. "I'll keep most of it to myself now though," he leaned forward and continued in a staged whisper that echoed throughout the building. "The other tributes are listening." The crowd's laughter was refreshed, and Bliss could almost feel the sponsorships flowing in his direction.

"Well, the people seem to like _that_," Julianette said, giving Bliss a pat on the back. "Is there something that you _can _tell us?"

"Not any particular advice," Bliss said honestly. "But they did step in to help me get ready for this moment, and that can only help."

"Absolutely," Julianette agreed. "Ladies and gentleman, Bliss Sparks!"

* * *

**Athene, D2**

* * *

"Ladies and Gentleman, one of the girl's who scored an _eleven_ in training, Athene Harbrick!" Athene stalked up the stairs in a simple, stone gray cocktail dress, hugging Julianette briefly when she arrived. "Hello there, darling," Julianette said. "Congratulations on the eleven!"

"Thank you," Athene said simply. "It wasn't much of a surprise though, the surprise was that I didn't get a twelve." The crowd whooped and hollered, swept up in her confidence.

"Ooh, confident, I like that," Julianette purred. "Now I have to ask, after the drama at the reaping, what do you think of your district partner?"

"Ugh," Athene groaned. "My partner."

"Yes," Julianette prompted. "Your partner. Do you have anything to say about him? Any _dirt_ to dish on the boy who rejected a volunteer?"

"Well, first of all I can't imagine how he got the ten from the Gamemakers," Athene said. "He's physically weak, and weak-willed as well, I wish I was partnered with someone else." The crowd was speechless. The boy from two was universally thought to be strong, and capable, especially after his score was revealed. A question made its way from each of the audience members to the next, was there something they didn't know?

"He certainly doesn't _look _physically weak," Julianette said once the buzz of the crowd had gone down. "Is there something we should know?"

"His reason for being in the Games is anger," Athene said, sitting up proudly. "He was abused as a small child, and made to feel weak. He thinks the Games will make him strong, but he's wrong. The Games will only further expose his weakness."

"I take it you won't be sticking together in the arena?" Julianette asked incredulously, genuinely shocked by the girl's aggressive assault.

"Oh, I'll keep him around for a little while," Athene said, staring out at the crowd. "It won't be long though. People of Panem, if you want to bet on a winner, don't waste your money on Slater, bet on me."

"A strong proclamation from a strong young lady," Julianette said, signaling the end of the interview. "Ladies and gentleman, Athene Harbrick!"

* * *

**Slater, D2**

* * *

"Let's see what her district partner has to say about _that_, please welcome, Slater O'Brien!" Slater shot Athene an angry glare as he passed her on his way to the stairs.

"So, Slater," Julianette said, settling comfortably into the cadence of the interviews. "Why did you deny the brave volunteer?"

"To be honest," Slater began. "I did it for revenge."

"Revenge?" Julianette gasped in excitement. "Revenge _is _a powerful motivator. Tell us more!"

"For a long time my family has been under the power of a less than desirable man," Slater continued. "When I win the Games I'll be able to save my family from that, and make sure that man can never touch us again."

"How beautiful," Julianette said, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye that Slater could clearly see did not exist. "So what has training been like? Do you any of your fellow tributes seem like they'll pose a threat in the arena?"

"Honestly no," Slater answered, keeping his voice firm. "I like where I am, and I like my chances."

"Oh, dear," Julianette scolded, pushing his shoulder playfully. "You can't expect us to believe that. We just met a particularly aggressive opponent of yours a few minutes ago, would you care to address that?"

"Athene?"

"Yes, Ms. Harbrick seems to have it out for you."

"She's not that big of a deal," Slater said confidently, though his voice wavered. "She can make a pretty speech, but we'll see who comes out on top in the arena."

"Yes, we will see indeed." Julianette stood up and gave Slater a hug as he did the same. "Ladies and gentleman, Slater O'Brien!"

* * *

**Scarlette, D3**

* * *

"Next we have the lovely creature from district three who stole the hearts of many a young man at her reaping, Scarlette Blake!" Scarlette strutted across the stage, swinging her hips to the delight of the crowd. Reaching out, the girl embraced Julianette before they kissed each other on each cheek and sat down.

"You look _amazing,_" Scarlette gushed, crossing her legs and giving a small wave at the cheering crowd. "I would _kill _for diamonds like that."

"Well," Julianette said, laughing away the compliment. "If you win the Hunger Games, you can have as many diamonds as you want, so in a way, you _can _kill for them!"

"You're right!" Scarlette exclaimed, laughing in surprise and apparent delight. "That definitely adds some motivation for coming out on top!"

"Absolutely!" Julianette agreed happily, obviously comfortable talking to the friendly girl. "Now tell us about your attire at the reaping. We don't see a lot of that in the other districts."

"I don't really know what to say," Scarlette giggled. "A girl likes to look good, right?" A cry of approval erupted from the audience; this was a girl that they could call one of their own.

"Of course, of course," Julianette continued. "So, this is something I'm sure the men in the audience are begging to know, are you single?"

"That's very flattering," Scarlette began, blowing a quick kiss to the audience. "However, I am actually in the middle of a pretty good thing with my district partner, so I guess I'm taken."

"Really?" Julianette asked, confused. "This boy?" Cable's picture flashed on one of the screens.

"Yes, that's him," Scarlette smiled. "Isn't he cute?"

"I suppose he is, isn't he?" Julianette mused unconvincingly. "So tell us, what's your edge? What will make you the victor of the Games?"

"While I would love to tell you that I am not just a pretty face," Scarlette said, launching into her prepared ending statement. "That I am one of the smartest girls in my district, I don't think that's my edge. My edge is you." Scarlette turned to the camera, her hands drifting to her immaculately designed hairdo and adjusting it slowly before she continued. "You wonderful, giving citizens hold my life in the balance. You could choose to take me to victory with your generosity, and I sincerely hope that you will, I think we could have a lot of fun together." Screamed promises swept through the crowd, crashing to the stage in a wave of support. Money was thrown at the girl from those closest to the stage until the entire length of the gleaming mahogany floor was covered in it. Saying goodbye to Julianette, Scarlette descended the stairs amidst the cheering of the crowd and walked to center stage, sweeping her arms out and triggering a fresh wave of pledges.

"Ladies and gentleman," Julianette announced, forcing herself to drag her eyes away from the captivating girl. "The possessor of our hearts, Scarlette Blake!"

* * *

**Cable, D3**

* * *

"Next is the endearing boy from district three, Cable Kelvin!" Cable did his best to navigate his way across the stage, dodging stagehands that ran back and forth, collecting the money thrown to his district partner.

"Hello," he muttered in answer to Julianette's hasty greeting.

"Tell us about your district partner," Julianette asked, not bothering to ask him about himself or even his family. "What was she like back home?" Cable blushed at the question, and fidgeted for several silent moments before answering.

"She made quite a splash," he finally said, studiously avoiding Julianette's insistent gaze.

"I'm sure she did. Did you know each other before the reaping?"

"I knew _of _her, everyone did, but no, we didn't know each other," Cable looked up at the crowd and was blinded by the stage lights. How had Scarlette made that whole speech looking into that?

"What did you know _of_ her?" Julianette asked, trying to jumpstart a conversation that Cable killed at every turn.

"She kinda slept around," Cable muttered, too quietly for the microphones to pick up.

"What?" Julianette asked, leaning forward dramatically. "We couldn't quite hear you, darling."

"She slept around," Cable repeated, essentially yelling his statement at the audience that had quieted down in order to hear the quiet boy.

"Oh!" Julianette gasped, blushing furiously at his statement. "Well, I'm glad you finally tied her down."

"Excuse me?"

"Ladies and gentleman, Cable Kelvin!"

* * *

**Bass, D4**

* * *

"The daughter of our victor, Bain Shores, this girl's white hair has sparked quite a fashion trend, ladies and gentleman, Bass Shores!" Bass strode confidently up the steps and sat down, the diamond necklace glittering at her throat complimenting Julianette nicely.

"Hello, Darling," Julianette greeted her. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine," Bass said flatly. "How are _you _doing?"

"Oh me? Perfectly perfect dear." Julianette placed her hands in her lap and gripped them tightly. The girl was obviously a lot like her father, a warning sign that this interview would be a very tough five minutes. "As the daughter of a victor, do you think you have a one up on your competitors?"

"Sure I do," Bass said, smirking at Julianette's discomfort. "Except for the other tributes that have the same connections. How much does your hair weigh?" A tittering laughter came from the crowd as they too noticed Julianette's disapproval of the girl's questions.

"What?" Julianette asked, trying to laugh away the girl's apparent war on the protocol of conventional interviews.

"How much does your hair weigh?" Bass repeated, looking at the audience like the woman was crazy. "It must be tough to balance it on your tiny neck." A huge, booming laugh echoed up onto the tower, though it didn't come from the stage.

"It's actually quite light," Julianette said through gritted teeth. "So Bass, do you have anyone back at home waiting for you? Possibly a boy?" Julianette saw a momentary flicker of uncertainty in Bass's eyes and smiled. She would make the girl pay for her juvenile questions.

"It's complicated," Bass answered offhandedly, her nerves betrayed as she began to rub her fingers together with no apparent purpose.

"We _love _complicated, don't we?" Julianette asked the crowd. "Tell us, who is it?"  
"I'd rather not," Bass said, realizing the tension behind the woman's pursuit.

"I think I know," Julianette said with a wink. "Do you remember Misty Lybrand?" Her unnecessary question was met with shouts of agreement. "She has a dashing son named Kye, and I hear he and Bass have quite the flame!" The crowd roared their approval, but the sound was quickly silenced by a shout from the girl tribute.

"No!" Bass exclaimed before she could stop herself.

"No?" Julianette asked, her face a mask of confusion. "Whatever do you mean?" Bass was about to stutter an excuse, but was instead interrupted by a small chiming that signaled the end of the interview. Julianette gave the girl a cruel grin before turning back to the cameras.

"Ladies and gentleman, the unfaithful heartbreaker from district four, Bass Shores!"

* * *

**Caspian, D4**

* * *

Julianette introduced Caspian next, and grinned at him unabashedly as he waved to the crowd. "I certainly know why Bass isn't quite as committed to her past relationship as she should be," Julianette said immediately, her eyes sweeping up and down the length of the attractive young man.

"What can I say," Caspian grinned, shooting a wink at the crowd. "I have that affect on people."

"I'm sure you do," Julianette purred, scooting closer in her seat and resting an unwelcome hand on the boy's thigh. "Tell us about yourself, Caspian, tell us _everything_." Caspian brushed away the woman's hand and left her side to sit at the edge of the platform, his feet dangling over the side of the tower.

"I grew up in district four," he began dramatically. "Sewing nets together, fishing, running on beaches, doing everything us district four-ians love to do every day. My life was normal, you couldn't distinguish it from any other boy my age, but then one morning the sun rose." He paused dramatically, sweeping his eyes over the crowd who sat enthralled by his story. "The sun rose, metaphorically speaking, and lit my life with its glow. My sun was a girl, and her name was Celeste." The crowd wept tears of happiness, gazing at the beautiful boy who was so obviously in love. "She is the most awe-inspiring creation that God placed on the earth, and she made me promise to come back to her. What do you all think? Should I keep my promise?" The crowd began to chant in reply, alternating between two statements of agreement.

"Keep it!"

"Come back!"

"Keep it!"

"Come back!"

"I agree!" Caspian said, standing up and pointing at the camera. "The people of Panem have spoken, Celeste, I'm coming back and there's nothing _anyone _can do to stop me."

"Ladies and gentleman," Julianette said as she heard the familiar chiming. "Caspian Devon!"

* * *

**Grace, D5**

* * *

"The girl from district five is next, please accompany me in welcoming Grace Feller!" Grace ignored Julianette's outstretched as she reached the spot where the interview would take place, instead sitting promptly down in her seat and staring at the Captiol woman until she did the same. "Let me first extend my condolences," Julianette said sadly, reaching out to pat the girl's hand, only to meet with empty air.

"Thank you," Grace said quietly, placing her hand on her lap, well out of Julianette's reach.

"We were all heartbroken to see you and your brother _both _get chosen in the reaping," Julianette said, her voice still sympathetic, but her moth pinched into a tight frown. "What do you think about possibly having to kill him in order to go home?" Grace stayed silent for what seemed to be several minutes.

"I don't know," she finally said. "I'm sure we will find out when we get to that situation."

"Yes, we will," Julianette confirmed, disappointed at her answer. "Are you liking it here at the Capitol?"

"No," Grace answered, her eyes glued forward.

"Why not?" Julianette asked, growing increasingly more impatient with the girl.

"It's too loud."

"What's too loud?"

"Everything."

"Ladies and gentleman," Julianette said flatly, ending the interview far before the time limit. "Grace Feller."

* * *

**Andrew, D5**

* * *

"Hopefully her brother will be more talkative!" Julianette wheezed as Grace descended the stairs. "It is my pleasure to introduce Andrew Feller!" Andrew sat in much the same manner as his sister, his eyes looking forward and his hands folded in his lap. "Welcome to the Capitol, Andrew."

"Thank you, Julianette," the boy said, his voice a slightly deeper reflection of his sister's.

"What has your whole experience been like so far, Andrew," Julianette asked, not even trying to hide her desperate race to get a reaction out of the boy. "Tell us about training, your mentors, Sissy, anything."

"Training was work," Andrew began. "Our mentors are very excited, and Sissy can't keep her hands to herself."

"Ha!" Julianette exclaimed, chuckling at the whispers running through the crowd. Sissy Fracille would most likely not be making an appearance at next year's Games. "What is your strategy for the arena? Are you going to ally with your sister?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything you'd like to say to the people of Panem?"

"No." Julianette practically growled at the uncooperative boy.

"Well then, we won't prolong this any further. Ladies and gentleman, Andrew Feller."

* * *

**Skye, D6**

* * *

"Now," Julianette said, her entire mood shifting from annoyance to a quiet sadness. "This next interview will be a bit emotional for some of us. Ladies and gentleman, the visually impaired girl from district six, Skylar Andronicus." The crowd took a collective intake of breath and waited as the tiny, frail girl was led up the steps painfully slowly by an avox. Skye's tall, red-haired companion set her gently on the tall seat and then made her way back down the steps, leaving the girl alone at the top of the tower.

"Hello?" Skye said into the empty silence, forcing a whimper from several members of the audience.

"I'm right here, darling," Julianette said quickly, patting the girl's hand. "So tell us, Skylar, do you miss your family? How were your last moments with them after the reaping?"

"Oh, I do miss them," Skylar said weakly, her small, shy voice still managing to echo in the otherwise silent building. "My little brother and sister always laughed a lot, and people don't laugh here very often. At least, they don't laugh for real."

"I'm so sorry," Julianette said solemnly. "Did you get to hear them laugh before you boarded the train?"

"No, actually," Skye said, her voice breaking. "My parents didn't let them come see me. The only one who came was my brother Cooper." The cameras began to pick out members of the crowd and zoom in on their silently weeping faces, perfectly capturing the Capitol's reaction to the little girl in front of them.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Julianette apologized again. "Let's move on to something else. What about the other tributes? Have you met any of them that seem particularly intimidating?"

"Everyone's intimidating when you're blind," Skye answered bluntly. "I guess I'm scared of the girl from two though. Everyone else seems to be."

"That's very true," Julianette admitted, forcing a frail impression of a chuckle. "Well I hope you know that we are all rooting for you, and we sincerely hope that the odds are in _your _favor."

"Thank you," Skye said, the tension in her shoulders easing as she recognized the end of the interview.

"Ladies and gentleman, Skylar Andronicus."

* * *

**Sawyer, D6**

* * *

"Next we have a young man who was quite successful back in his district, despite his young age. Please welcome Sawyer Coleman!" A light smatter of applause went up from those who weren't still wiping their eyes after the last interview. "Sawyer," Julianette said as he sat down in the chair opposite her. The large, ornate piece of furniture that had seemed to swallow up the little blind girl now seemed small itself, threatening to break underneath it's current occupant. "How do you honestly see your chances in the Games? How far do you think you will get?"

"That's an excellent question, Julianette," Sawyer said, grinning, and slowly succeeding to pull the audience out of their depression. "An excellent question from an excellent woman."

"Oh, stop, you're making me blush," Julianette joked, giving him an approving wink.

"I actually do think that I will get pretty far in the Games," Sawyer admitted, appearing to give a great amount of thought to each of his words. "I'm a little bigger than most of my opponents, and I'm good with my hands, so that should help me on my path to victory!"

"It certainly should!" Julianette agreed. "At this moment, who do you think is your greatest competition for the crown?"

"Well, Julianette, I'll let you in on a secret," Sawyer smiled, gesturing to the crowd. "In fact, I'll let all of _you _in on it too!"

"Ooh, we _adore _secrets," Julianette squealed. "Tell us!"

"There is an alliance in the works," Sawyer declared as if this was something new, as if they had never heard of it before. "Between districts one, two, and four."

"_Really?_" Julianette exclaimed, playing along with the charade of excitement.

"Yes! So I think having all of them together is the biggest threat."

"Thank you for letting us in on that little tidbit of information, Sawyer," Julianette said, pleased that the general mood was improving. "Ladies and gentleman, Sawyer Coleman!"

* * *

**A/N**

**Finally I updated! :P I'm sorry it took so long, I was hit by the bus that is Lack of Inspiration, and Lack of Productivity. It was awful, but I think it's in the past.**

**Here is the first half of the interviews! I wanted to keep them short, because they seemed short to me in the books.**

**Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	24. Ladies and Gentleman (P2)

**Interviews Part 2**

* * *

Julianette Dior sat in the small, dimly lit room designated for her backstage, watching her reflection in the grimy mirror as she counted the bribe given to her by the district two mentor, Cage Mane. After the first half of the interviews the aging woman's excitement had started to fade. She had asked the same questions and given the same answers to _so many_ tributes, and although surgery and makeup could cover up her aging features, she could still feel the never-ending cycle of tributes and victors starting to wear her down.

"Dior!" A stage director shouted. "Get your butt on stage, we're on in thirty!"

"I'll be on the stage whenever I want," Julianette huffed under her breath, though she knew it was a lie. No matter what she said, nobody was waiting for her anymore. Sitting up straight in her chair, the woman watched herself transform from a defeated has-been to the grinning socialite that had the entire Capitol in the palm of her hand.

She would show them.

She was nowhere near defeat.

* * *

**Chase Rige**

* * *

Chase climbed the steps up to the platform and was practically lifted off of the ground when he reached the top.

"You're so _cute!_" Julianette squealed, spinning the boy around in her arms. "Look at him!" The crowd gave a round of applause as the heat rose to Chase's face. "Have a seat!" Julianette said, pushing him into the large chair. "Now, Chase, I understand you are only _twelve years old_. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Chase said nervously swinging his feet back and forth.

"How do you think that affects your chances in the arena?" Julianette asked, her forced smile causing Chase to keep his eyes directed toward the cameras.

"Well, I guess I'm not as strong or tall as the other kids," he said, his voice growing louder as he grew more comfortable on the stage. "And none of them think I'm a threat at all, because I'm so young."

"That's right!" Julianette exclaimed. "I'm sure they think very little of your chances, yes?"

"Yeah," Chase said, his eyes falling. "Maybe they're right…"

"Oh, nonsense," Julianette chided. "What do they know? Perhaps they're so old that _they _are less likely to win!" Chase giggled at the thought, and several of the audience members echoed his laughter.

"Maybe!" Chase laughed. "Maybe I'll just run circles around them and they'll be too slow to catch me!"

"We certainly hope so!" Julianette said, watching a spark of mirth light the boy's eyes. She had seen the same thing many times in many young tributes, and if there were one thing that she was sure of it was that the spark would be dimmed permanently in the next few days.

"Ladies and gentleman, Chase Rige!"

* * *

**Rhia Davis**

* * *

"Now is the moment we have _all _been waiting for," Julianette said as Chase skipped down the stairs. "The first tribute from an outlying district to score an eleven since the thirty-second Hunger Games, Rhiannon Davis!" Rhia climbed gracefully up the side of the tower, her dress a darker, more subdued version of her chariot outfit and her hair decorated with small purple flowers. "Welcome, Rhia," Julianette said, squeezing the girl's hand and directing her toward the seat. "Your score has really surprised many of us, how did you feel when you saw that number next to your picture?"

"I was pleased," Rhia answered. "I was glad that the Gamemakers thought so much of me."

"Yes, yes, of course you were," Julianette rushed on. "Now I don't know if you know this or not, but the last person from an outlying district to score an eleven was Rider Diamondback from district ten, _seventeen _years ago."

"I did know that," Rhia informed her blandly. Her mentors and escort had been drilling her about it all day. "It just goes to show that no one should underestimate a tribute based on where they are from."

"Absolutely," Julianette agreed. "Now how do you think your score will affect the Games overall?"

"I'm sure it will both mark me as a target and ward away others who are afraid of my reputation, but that doesn't matter. Whatever happens, I'm ready." A wave of applause rushed through crowd, but Rhia didn't react. They didn't deserve her attention.

"That's good to hear!" Julianette said excitedly. "However, I'm sure Mr. Diamondback felt the same way, and _he _was hunted down and slaughtered in a fight ruled by an unfair amount of opponents." Every sound in the immense auditorium fell silent at the macabre scene painted by Julianette's words. Every individual present pictured the girl getting mobbed by her competitors, and cringed as a result.

"Excuse me?" Rhia asked, looking at the woman as if she was seeing her for the first time. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Julianette explained. "We're just hoping that you don't meet the same fate!" Rhia looked at the woman oddly, waiting until she finally spoke. "Do you have any plans against that outcome?"

"Yes," Rhia said. "You can all be sure that _that_ will not happen to _me_."

"If you're lucky!" Julianette exclaimed, staring wide-eyed and innocent at the crowd. "Ladies and gentleman, Rhiannon Davis!"

* * *

**Aden Hanran**

* * *

"The next couple of tributes caused quite a splash at their reapings," Julianette said. "Famous for his proclamation of love given directly after volunteering to save the one he loves, please welcome Aden Hanran!" Aden jogged up to Julianette, his red hair contrasting starkly with his midnight blue suit. "How would you feel if we skipped the formalities and got straight to the drama?" Julianette asked as he seated himself.

"Sounds good to me!" Aden said, rubbing his palms together in anticipation. "Give me all you got."

"Oh, I will!" Julianette replied. "You obviously love Ms. Reyna quite a bit. How long has this relationship been going on, and how _serious_ is it?"

"We met two years, one month, and six days ago," Aden said, smiling at the memory. "There was always something there; something different than my relationships with other girls. I figured out that it was love, and we've dated ever since."

"How sweet!" Julianette gushed. "So were you considering a long-term arrangement?"

"Yes," Aden confirmed. "Actually, we were engaged; were supposed to be married the evening of the reaping."

"No!" Julianette gasped.

"Yes." Aden took a deep shuddering breath and brushed his hands over his eyes. "I guess the Games had other ideas. You know what I wish, Julianette?"

"What?"

"I wish, more than anything else, that two people could come out alive. That I could come home with the girl I love and live the life we wanted to have together."

"Oh, we all wish that as well," Julianette said sadly, noting the genuine sadness the young man was exuding. "Now, I feel that you should know, some people have criticized your decision. They say that if you _hadn't _volunteered, Colleen could have won and you could have been happy, but now that you _did _volunteer, there's absolutely no chance that you will be together. What do you say to that?"

"As Colleen's future husband, it is my job to protect her, and keep her safe," Aden said after he paused to collect his thoughts. "My life would have been a pathetic shard of what it once was without her, so I had to be _sure _that she would make it out. The only way I could be sure that she would come out alive would be if I went in as well. I put her safety above my own, and I still stand by my decision."

"Do you hear that you critics?" Julianette said, pointing a long, quivering finger at the nearest camera. "You enemies of love can keep your tired ranting to yourself. This is what true love looks like, and it has the power to win it all, even in the worst of situations."

"Thank you very much," Julianette said to Aden. "For your winning example of love and self-sacrifice. Ladies and gentleman, Aden Hanran!"

* * *

**Colleen Reyna**

* * *

"Ladies and gentleman, the girl whose love prompted a young man to follow her into the Games, Colleen Reyna!" The crowd cheered for the slight, quaking girl as she made her way slowly up the stairs, her knuckles white as she clenched the folds of her pale blue gown. "Can I call you Colleen?" Julianette asked, realizing the girl's need for a confidence boost,

"Lots of people call me Lena," Colleen said quietly, though she stopped shaking at the familiar sound of her nickname.

"That will do then, Lena," Julianette smiled. "Your man just gave us a wonderful speech about your predicament, and may I be the first to say how _sorry _we all are."

"Thank you," Colleen replied, though the woman seemed to be speaking as if Colleen were already dead.

"Now while some are holding out hope that they will allow two victors, that is very unlikely. How do you feel about the prospect of killing the one you love?" Colleen curled forward as if she had been punched in the gut, her hands flying to her face.

"How horrible," she choked out, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," Julianette repeated, rubbing her hand on the girl's back as she looked sadly out at the crowd. "It's okay dear, I'm sure the Gamemakers will amend the rules for you two, how could they not?" Colleen was finally able to stop the flood of tears and sit up straight.

"Do you think they will?" she asked simply.

"Well, after _this_, I'm sure of it!" Julianette said, smiling in pity at the poor girl. "You really _do _love this boy, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Colleen said sadly.

"Here's the question then," Julianette mused aloud, surprising even herself by the sound of her voice. "If you had switched places; if he had been reaped and you were left standing in the crowd, would you have done the same for him? Would you have volunteered?" Julianette's eyes widened as the question fell from her lips. The girl was looking up at her in shock, completely disarmed by the question, and the crowd couldn't seem to decide if they were disgusted by the question, or anxious for the answer.

"I," Colleen began, her voice fading off into silence as she seriously considered the question. A small chiming rang throughout the quiet room.

"Ladies and gentleman, Colleen Reyna."

* * *

**Kayn Topekh**

* * *

Julianette waved to a stagehand to bring her a drink as she announced her next 'guest.' "Ladies and gentleman, the only son of the very first victor from district nine, Kayn Topekh!" Kayn walked stiffly to the tower, forced to slow down behind the elaborately costumed avox carrying the drink to Julianette. When he was finally seated, and Julianette had swallowed the last of a thick, purple liquid, Julianette greeted him and he said something back. Something he couldn't remember.

"You're not used to big crowds, are you?" Julianette giggled, already feeling the familiar buzz of alcohol in the back of her throat. "That's fine, sweetie, just talk to me; pretend like they're not even there."

"I'm not nervous," Kayn mumbled.

"Of course you're not," Julianette winked. "Now Kayn, what is it like having to live up to the expectations everyone has for you, because your mother is so spectacular?"

"I didn't really feel a lot of that growing up," Kayn admitted truthfully. "So even though I've felt the expectations more since the reaping, it doesn't really register. It hasn't gotten to me, and I don't expect that it will."

"Interesting," Julianette said dramatically, nodding her head like a demented, diamond-encrusted bird. "You have some serious competition in some of the other tributes," the woman continued. "Several of them are even rumored to have formed into a team. How do you feel about that?"

"I'd be stupid if I didn't say that I was a _little _scared," Kayn said matter-of-factly. "I'm not the kind to let fear control me though. Besides, I may or may not have a few allies of my own lined up." Julianette almost fell out of her seat at the mysterious hint.

"Like who?" she asked ecstatically, unconsciously correcting her oddly tipping wig. "I bet you've allied with that large girl from your district, right?"

"I can't say who all is included," Kayn said. "But what I can say is that we have plenty of members that we don't have to be worried about anyone else's alliance."

"Incredible!" Julianette cried out. "This will surely be a year to remember, and hopefully even more so for district nine!"

"Hopefully!" Kayn agreed.

"Ladies and gentleman, Kayn Topekh."

* * *

**Tanita Humbrid**

* * *

"Next up is the girl who surprised us with her size and build, please welcome Tanita Humbrid!" Tanita passed Kayn on her way to the stage, and her height coupled with the enormous high heels she had been forced to wear made her substantially taller than her fellow tribute. "Welcome to the Capitol, Tanita," Julianette said, looking up at the intimidating girl.

"What," Tanita said sternly as Julianette sat silently, awaiting an answer. "Am I supposed to thank you?" Julianette laughed nervously.

"Well, yes," she joked, patting the girl on the arm.

"Don't touch me," Tanita said immediately, leaning forward instead of shrinking back. Julianette quickly scooted to the other side of her chair, putting as much distance between her and the girl as possible.

"I'll do my best," the frightened woman giggled again. "So tell me, what was life like back in district nine?"

"It was comfortable," Tanita chuckled darkly. "I definitely had it better than most."

"Oh really?" Julianette asked, surprised. "Were your parents wealthy?"

"No," Tanita answered bluntly, refusing to elaborate further on the sources of her wealth.

"How do you feel about your district partner, Mr. Topekh? Are you happy with who fate has chosen alongside you?"

"He'll do," Tanita snorted. "At least he's not small, weak, and nervous like all of _you_." An outraged gasp burst from the crowd. How could she be so cruel?

"Well, I don't think that's very fair of you to say," Julianette replied. "You don't even know us!"

"I don't need to know you, I can see what you are." Tanita stood and stalked off of the stage, leaving Julianette stunned behind her.

"Ladies and gentleman, Tanita Humbrid!"

* * *

**Miles Taylor**

* * *

Julianette took a deep breath before continuing. This was it; this was the moment her whole career had been leading up to. She would have to use every underhanded tactic she had learned over the years in order to convince the people in the audience _and _the people of district ten that this _was _the boy from ten.

"Next up we have the boy who surprised us all with an _eight_ in training, Andelin Brown!" Julianette watched Miles step carefully up the stairs before he seated himself, his face partially hidden by a large hat. "Now Andelin," she began. "The Gamemakers told me about the dramatic change in you throughout your training, and I can see what they meant! The slight boy we saw riding his horse in the tribute parade has put on quite a bit of muscle!"

"Yeah, things are a little different now," Miles said stiffly, the echoes of the Gamemaker's threats still resounding in his ear.

"Is there something specific that you worked on in the training area that brought on this dramatic change?" Julianette fussed with her hair, made quick gestures with her hands, and made almost continuous expressions for the benefit of the audience, making sure that the cameras spent most of their time trained on her, and not the imposter sitting beside her.

"I worked mostly in weapons training," Miles answered truthfully, though it had only been for a day. "I already knew a lot of stuff from what I did back home."

"That's interesting!" Julianette squeaked, grasping for conversational road that would take them away from the subject of his home and family. "How has your stay in the Capitol been so far? Have you enjoyed our city?"

"Everyone's been very kind," Miles said coldly, swallowing hard as he felt the poisonous lie cross his lips. "I wish my family could see it all."

"Well, if you win the Games, you can take a little piece of the Capitol back home with you!" Julianette grinned, though the smile never reached her eyes. There was no way the Gamemakers would let this boy live,_ that_ she knew for sure.

"Ladies and gentleman, Andelin Brown!"

* * *

**Bandit Highland**

* * *

Julianette sighed with relief as the boy exited stage right, taking with him the pressure of the President's expectations. There were only five tributes left, and they would go quickly. "Ladies and gentleman, Bandit Lee Highland!" Bandit strode up the stairs and shook Julianette's hand before sitting down and crossing her legs, 'Like a lady,' as her mother would say. "Hello, young lady, welcome to my humble stage," Julianette said warmly.

"Thank you for having me," Bandit replied, as if anyone had a choice in the matter.

"So far we've talked to the other tributes about their home districts, their relationships with other tributes, and their thoughts on the Capitol," Julianette listed off. "I wanted to talk to you about the reaping. It must have shocked you to hear your name called out on that day. What were you thinking as you walked up onto that stage?"

"I remember feeling very cold, and very surprised," Bandit answered, folding her hands thoughtfully. "I had always considered what it would be like to go into the Games, but it's not really a feeling that you can imagine until it actually happens to you. I suppose, under all of my thoughts and feelings was a simple question."

"What was that question?"

"Why?" Bandit said quietly. "Why me? Why did God put me in such a place?"

"Oh," Julianette said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "So I take it you are religious?"

"It's not a religion, it's more of a relationship," Bandit explained.

"And what is _that _supposed to mean?" Julianette asked sarcastically. The woman hadn't seen God, and she hadn't heard him either, how could she believe there was such an entity? This girl was obviously a fool.

"It's not just a set of rules that I follow," Bandit continued, urged on by Julianette's unspoken protest. "I'm willingly submissive to my Creator, the One who made me and who loves me." Julianette snorted.

"How can you say that your god loves you?" she spat, perhaps more violently than she had intended. "Considering the position you're in, I can only imagine he has forgotten you altogether."

"Because He gave me my life in the first place," Bandit smiled. "It was His to give, and it's still His to take away. I've had a wonderful life, and if He ends it in the next couple of weeks, how can I complain?"

"Well, let's hope your frailly-built, unflagging positivity helps you in the Games," Julianette drawled.

"I'm sorry you see it that way," Bandit said quietly.

"Ladies and gentleman, Bandit Lee Highland!"

* * *

**Till Umber**

* * *

"The boy who caught all of our attention at the chariot parade," Julianette said, steeling herself for who she knew was coming up the stairs next. "It is my pleasure to present to you, Till Umber!" Julianette jumped slightly in her seat when the boy appeared at the top of the staircase, his scars blatantly obvious against his white suit. "Welcome!" she called weakly, failing to disguise her revulsion. "How has your stay here in the big city been so far?"

"Fine," Till grumbled.

"Have you enjoyed training?"

"Yes."

"Oh good!" Julianette exclaimed, hoping to finally get a reaction out of the boy. "Why do you think you enjoyed it? Meeting the other tributes? Or getting ready for the Games?"

"It was a distraction," Till said dryly. "And I wasn't here with you, so it was pretty fantastic."

"So dark and brooding," Julianette mused, working up the courage to lean forward and inspect the boy further. "Tell us, how did you get those scars?" Till's eyes glazed over and his left hand began its small twitch, trying to perform its most basic functions.

"There was a fire," he answered distantly, transported back to that day with the mention of his scars. "It killed my family. Everyone but my brother and me."

"Is he… _marked_ by the flames as well?"

"No," Till said bitterly, snapping out of his daze. "He's completely unscathed."

"Well, that doesn't seem fair," Julianette commented absentmindedly, inspecting her immaculately decorated nails in boredom.

"Life didn't bother being _fair_ to me," Till spat.

"Well, you know what they say," Julianette smiled. "When one door closes, another door opens. Maybe the Hunger Games are your door."

"Ladies and gentleman, Till Umber!"

* * *

**Lannah Woolks**

* * *

"Our next guest looked absolutely _darling _at the tribute parade, and I believe she does tonight as well. Please welcome Lannah Woolks!" The small girl made her way slowly and carefully up the steps to Julianette's perch, tripping over the last step and falling on her face despite her best efforts. "Oh, dear!" Julianette gasped, rushing over to help the girl up off of the floor. "Are you okay?"

"Oh," Lannah giggled nervously. "Yeah, I guess I'm okay." The two finally made it safely to their seats and the crowd applauded.

"That was quite an entrance," Julianette stated humorously. "Do you always make such a big impression when you meet new people?"

"I, uh," Lannah looked out at the enormous crowd standing at attention and waiting for her every word. It was terrifying.

"You, uh, what?" Julianette asked again, sending a wave of chuckles through the crowd.

"Um, no," Lannah finally answered. "I don't usually give a large impression."

"Well, you certainly did today," Julianette smirked. "So, Lannah, tell us about yourself. If you had to sum up your entire life in three words, what would they be?"

"Me? In three words?"

"Yes, you."

"Oh, that's," Lannah paused and swallowed hard. "That's hard."

"I suppose it _is _a little difficult to answer on the spot," Julianette said. "Why don't I go first, and then you'll have a better idea of how it goes. Does that sound better?"

"I guess, thanks," Lannah could barely hear what the woman was chattering on about. She was getting dizzy, and all she wanted to do was get away from the attentive crowd.

"Here I go," Julianette began. "Popular. Stylish. Beautiful." The crowd cheered and laughed at the woman's vanity. "Now it's your turn!"

"Okay," Lannah began, her head swimming. "Happy? Kind? And um… Clumsy?" The crowd roared their approval at her answer.

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Happy, Kind, and Clumsy," Julianette laughed. "We hope to see you again!"

"Ladies and gentleman, Lannah Woolks!" She was already at the bottom of the stairs when her name was called out.

* * *

**Marsh Melonee**

* * *

"Next up is a boy that I had a lovely chat with backstage before the show began, from district twelve, Marsh Melonee!" Marsh bounded up the stairs two at a time and landed haphazardly in the tall chair.

"Hello again, Julianette," he said immediately, and slightly out of breath.

"Hello, darling!" she replied before turning to the crowd. "This boy is absolutely delightful, really! We were talking before about the abundance of food here in the Capitol, and he told me several of his favorites. What were they again?"

"Well, I love the bread!" Marsh grinned. "It's so soft, and warm! Eating the bread at home is like eating cold tree bark." The crowd laughed delightedly at the excited boy.

"That's right, folks, out of all the delicacies of the Capitol, he loves the bread!" Julianette laughed so hard that she began to snort, the odd, embarrassing sound prompting ecstatic applause from the crowd.

"It's not _just_ the bread though," Marsh continued, displaying a wide, toothy grin. "I love the water! It's so clear, I can see right through it!" Julianette was now laughing so hard that tears of joy were streaming down her face and she was struggling to stay in her seat.

"Bread and water!" she wheezed, falling again into fits of shrill giggles.

"That's right!" Marsh laughed. "Bread and water!" Julianette was forced to take several steadying breaths before she could continue the interview.

"You are quite the young man," she said, wiping her eyes. "I'm sure you had plenty of friends back home, yes?"

"I had a few good friends, yeah," Marsh answered, though his grin began to fade. "They even gave me a token to take into the Games with me, but I lost it on the train."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Julianette said, patting the boy on the back in a frail attempt to comfort him. "I'm sure they will forgive you though, when you win the Games and take them all the bread and water they could ever dream of!"

"Yeah, I guess so!" Marsh said, his spirits boosted by the woman's confidence.

"I understand you are an orphan," Julianette continued. "I'm sure it was awful having to grow up without a family…"

"Actually, it wasn't so bad," Marsh said, much to the crowds surprise. "Those friends I talked about earlier were all orphans too, so they were like my family. That's why I want to win so bad; so that they don't have to be in the orphanage anymore!"

"Well, what a gallant goal!" Julianette commended.

"Ladies and gentleman, the honorable orphan from district twelve, Marsh Melonee!"

* * *

**Serenity Gilbert**

* * *

"Hopefully she'll be able to keep herself awake to the world through this entire interview, ladies and gentleman, Serenity Gilbert!" Serenity slipped onto the stage and sat down quietly, keeping her head down and failing to acknowledge Julianette's greeting. "Never mind then," Julianette said, laughing off the girl's snub. "Have you grown more comfortable with your situation over the last few days, Serenity?"

"Not really," Serenity answered, her voice sounding barely above a whisper. "It is the Hunger Games after all, there's a lot to grow comfortable with."

"That's true," Julianette nodded. "Tell me, if you were to win, how do you think that would come about? I don't see you as much of a fighter, but I may be wrong."

"I don't know," the girl answered. "I really don't. I suppose it will have to be an accident."

"Oh, don't be like that," Julianette chided. "Have some confidence in yourself! You can win the whole thing, everyone has an equal chance!" Even though the crowd seemed to agree, the blatant lie wasn't lost on the small girl.

"That couldn't be further from the truth," Serenity said softly, choking on her own words.

"Well, let's hope you find your confidence by tomorrow morning!"

"Ladies and gentleman, Serenity Gilbert!"

"That marks the end of the tribute interviews everyone!" Julianette called out. "Now all we need is to get _them_ to bed, and send your children away. Our party is _just getting started!_"

The crowd erupted, the Gamemakers left their seats, and the tributes left for the Tower.

This was it.

No more training.

No more fancy clothes or cosmetic makeovers.

It was time for the Games.

* * *

**A/N**

**The next chapter is entitled Calm Before the Storm, and it should be up pretty quickly as I have been wanting to write it since I finished the last day of training.**

**Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	25. Calm Before the Storm

**Calm Before the Storm**

**District 3**

* * *

Scarlette stood in her room staring out of the enormous window that looked out on the dazzling city. She had always been confident. Her intelligence and beauty had taken her everywhere that she had wanted go back in district three, but was it enough to get her through the Games? Staring at her reflection in the pane of glass, the only honest answer was no. As well as she had done during the parade and the interviews, she wasn't suited for the Games. If she wanted to get out of the arena, she would need something else to do it.

Tousling her hair, Scarlette turned away from the window and walked to her door, slipping out of her bedroom and into the stillness of the hallway. Turning to the right, she counted the doors as she passed them until she came to Cable's room. She smiled warmly at the peacekeepers guarding the hallway before knocking softly on the dark wood and slipping in to see the boy.

He wasn't sleeping, she hadn't expected him to be, and his sullen gray eyes followed her all the way from the doorway to where she sat on the edge of his bed. "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.

"I couldn't sleep," Scarlette said, laying down on the bed and looking up at him. "I wanted to see you."

"Why me?"

"Because," Scarlette said, faltering for a moment. "I think I love you." The silence interrupted by Cable's initial question resumed. "Say something," Scarlette pleaded, pulling on Cable's thin shirt until he fell backward next to her.

"Are you telling the truth?" he finally asked as the older girl wiggled closer to him.

"Of course." Scarlette leaned forward and kissed him slowly. Several minutes passed by before the two came up for air. Scarlette immediately whispered in his ear. "There's one thing that's holding me back though."

"What?" Cable asked, moving to place his hand on her waist, but opting to scratch his arm instead.

"I feel like you're not being honest and forthcoming with me," she said sadly, pulling away from him slightly. "Maybe you don't feel the same way?"

"I don't really know what you want me to say," Cable stammered, trying to move back to their previous position, but only managing to force Scarlette to move farther away.

"Tell me about ElectroBlix," Scarlette said, sitting up. "Stop pretending like there's nothing going on, and stop pushing me away." Cable waited. He could still feel her lips on his own.

"It was about the mutts," Cable finally said, stammering so bad that he had to stop talking.

"Keep going," Scarlette insisted, scooting closer and tangling her fingers in his hair. "Please."

"They all have gills," he said, still trying to overcome his stutter. "All of them; even the birds. That means that there will be a lot of water, and it won't be safe. That's why I spent almost all of training in the pool."

"Really?" Scarlette breathed. "Was there anything else?"

"There was a strain of the DNA that would exhibit human-like tendencies," Cable stammered. "And the aquatic side of the animals seem to be made for salt water, so even though there will be a lot of water, we won't be able to drink it."

"You are so _smart_," Scarlette said, kissing him quickly on the lips. "If that was all you could figure out, I'm sure that's all that was there."

"Well," Cable squirmed. "That wasn't all."

"So?" Scarlette asked, growing impatient.

"Fine," he said, exhaling deeply. "The mutts have a genetic off switch. There's some kind of trigger that cancels all aggressive behavior. I don't know why, or how, but it would render them completely helpless."

"Wow," Scarlette said, sitting up and leaving the cocoon of heat created by their bodies. "That's incredible."

"I know," Cable agreed, reaching up and pulling lightly on her arm.

"Don't touch me," Scarlette spat, jerking her arm away and sliding off of the bed.

"What?" Cable yelped, sitting up and watching her move quickly toward the door. "Where are you going?"

"Away from _you, _that's for sure," Scarlette smirked. The change in her behavior was dramatic, like flicking a switch. She was done pretending.

"You mean, it was all a lie?" Cable asked, the pain and confusion registering on his face.

"Of course it was a lie," Scarlette answered, rolling her eyes. "Look at you. You're pathetic, and you'll be dead by this time tomorrow, how could I possibly love you?"

"You were just pumping me for information," Cable said quietly, half to himself.

"And boy am I glad that I did," Scarlette chuckled. "I have some friends downstairs that will be _very _interested in what you had to say."

"My sister always said you were the devil's mistress," Cable groaned, flopping back onto his bed and covering his face in shame.

"Well," Scarlette said. "That's a little harsh, but she's on the right track. I'll see you tomorrow, Cable. Even if it is only _briefly_."

Scarlette closed the door behind her and left Cable to ponder his failure, walking right past her bedroom door and into the main room. Spotting the guard outside of the elevator, she immediately pranced over to him, reached up, and took his helmet off of his head to reveal is rough, unshaven face. "Hello handsome," she said in a low, sleepy tone of voice. "Mind if I take a ride before I get shipped to my death tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry Ms., but that's against regulation," he answered, doing his best to look forward over the girl's head. "Nobody comes in or out."

"Couldn't you make an exception?" she asked, disappointed. She had pictured this going easier for her.

"No. No exceptions."

Scarlette turned to leave, frustrated at the guard's refusal, but quickly turned back around and strode up to the guard. Draping her arms around his neck, Scarlette kissed him passionately on the mouth, feeling his stubble scratch her face as he returned the kiss after a moment of hesitation. "This isn't going to change my mind," the guard breathed heavily before returning his attention to her lips.

"I know," Scarlette said. Letting out a shriek that shattered the night and brought the other peacekeepers charging down the hallway, Scarlette peeled herself off of the guard and dragged her nails across his face, leaving long bloody gouges in his cheeks.

"What's going on?" one of the peacekeepers shouted.

"He attacked me," Scarlette cried, retreating behind the two new arrivals in a flurry of panicked movements. "He forced me to kiss him!"

"No I didn't!" the guard yelled in protest.

"Be quiet," a large, older guard ordered. "Do you want us to tell the Gamemakers?" he directed at Scarlette. "This man would be punished accordingly." Scarlette stared at the elevator guard until he gave a curt nod. He knew what she wanted.

"No," she answered. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Scarlette huffed. "Now go back to your post, who knows what could have happened while you were wasting your time over here." As the hallway guards returned to their previous position, Scarlette walked into the elevator and pushed the glowing button that signified the first floor above the lobby. Just before the doors closed, she brought a finger up to her lips and winked at the speechless guard who was gently feeling the deep scratches on his face.

* * *

**District 2**

* * *

Athene stepped into the elevator and quickly closed the doors before Slater could follow; leaving him stranded on district one's over-decorated floor of the Tower. They were only going one floor up, but she still liked to assert her dominance whenever she could. As the doors opened on the floor assigned to district two, Athene immediately noticed the strange absence of her entourage. Neither of the mentors were present, Indie was gone as well, and there wasn't even a serving avox in sight. Walking silently toward the bedrooms, she opened the doors to reveal empty rooms. They were probably still out partying, getting sponsors drunk enough to give absurd donations.

When she reached her own room she strode inside and slipped out of the little cocktail dress she had worn at her interview, exchanging the outfit for a much more comfortable pair of shirt and shorts. Leaving her dress crumpled in a ball on the floor, Athene marched toward the kitchen just in time to see the elevator open and admit Slater into the big, empty room.

"Oh, look," Athene leered, searching through a bowl of fresh fruit and extracting a large, red apple. "The little piggy really _did _go wee, wee, wee, all the way home." Slater walked forward slowly until he stood directly in front of the girl.

"I saw your interview," he said, not bothering to hide the tension in his voice. "What the _hell _was that?"

"Sorry about that, beautiful," Athene smirked. "I have _no_ idea what came over me."

"You are a beast from the pit, Athene," Slater muttered, turning around to go to his room.

"Really?" Athene laughed. "A beast from the pit? That's the best you could do? I guess Cage lost the bet, you really areweak _and _stupid." Taking a large bite out of her apple, Athene sent it sailing through the air until it found its mark; the back of Slater's head. "You can have the rest, I remember how much you like _apples_."

He was on her before she could say another word.

Crashing through the furniture between them, Slater rushed forward and caught her in the ribs with a clenched fist, sending her sliding across the polished floor with a cry of pain. Letting out a scream of rage, Slater followed her across the room, snatching an ornate, metal lamp off of a table and heaving it in her direction. Athene ducked and the lamp smashed into the wall above her head, shattering the bulb and sending a shower of sparks down on her recovering form, along with the twisted frame of the lamp. Her nails struggling to find purchase on the smooth floor, Athene was finally able to claw her way up onto her feet and jump out of the way as Slater charged at her again. "What are you doing?!" she screamed, her voice breaking in fear.

"I've had enough," Slater screamed back. "You killed that kid just because he wasn't your first pick for the team, you push people around and make everyone miserable, and you just messed with my chances of going home. I've decided that you're going to hell early." Lunging at her again, Slater lashed out with a well-timed kick and knocked her backward up against a wall. She was trapped. Pinning her against the wall with one arm, Slater pulled back the other and drilled his fist toward her face, a blow she was barely able to deflect with a quick slap. His hand punched into the wall, and Athene immediately brought up her unhindered fist, punching him in the nose and sending him reeling backward with blood pouring down his face. Athene ran toward the bedrooms and Slater roared like an enraged animal, chasing her down as his blood fell freely onto the floor. Catching her ankle just before she reached her door, Slater pulled Athene's legs out from under her and sent her crashing painfully to the floor. Dragging her away from her safe haven, Slater kicked Athene in the side repeatedly, causing a strangled cry to erupt from her throat. Thrashing wildly, Athene was finally able to escape his hold, jump to her feet, and knock him to the side on her way back toward her room. Hearing his heavy footsteps pounding after her, Athene poured the last of her energy into her legs and sped through the doorway, fumbling for a moment before she finally brought the heavy door crashing closed. She slumped down in front of the ornately carved wood, bracing her legs against a dresser in preparation for the coming impact. Slater took a few steps back before sprinting forward and landing a shuddering blow on the door, knocking Athene forward but failing to break into her room. Again and again, Athene was forced to press her back into the door to keep him from invading her refuge.

"It wasn't me!" Athene screamed over the noise of the buckling door. The blows stopped.

"What?" Slater growled.

"I didn't kill the kid," she cried. "I just wanted to scare them; I have no idea who did it." Athene held her breath and listened for an answer, finally hearing Slater's door open and close. She could relax. It was over.

Taking a deep, rattling breath, Athene curled up on the floor as uncontrollable sobs began to rack her frame. No matter what she had said before, she wasn't invincible, and now Slater had proven that to himself, and to her. Everyone back in district two may think that she could win the Games with both hands tied behind her back, but they had thought the same about her sister.

She could still remember how Haven had glowed with pride when she was chosen as tribute. She had been ready, willing, and best of all, able; trained to kill without hesitation. The entire district had showered gifts on the Harbrick family while Haven was in the Games, every one of them supporting the beautiful, deadly girl. They all watched with glee as she plunged her sword into the towering tribute from district six, and they all watched in horror as the two tributes from district eight snuck up on her from behind and threw themselves at her. Weaponless, she had thrashed around, attempting to fight them off, but was ultimately overwhelmed and forced to the ground where she was beat mercilessly. The other careers eventually came to her rescue, skewering Haven's attackers and taking her bruised and broken body back to their camp at the base of the cornucopia. Days went by as they threw their hands into the air, asking their mentors to send something, _anything _that could help, but there was no answer. Gregor had refused to send aid. They were eventually chased out of their camp by a group of mutts, and were forced to leave Haven behind. She didn't last long.

Ever since that day Athene had known she would be going into the Games. There had never been any questions as to whether or not she would win. Everyone expected her to carry both her own and her sister's dreams through to the end, to the Victor's Village. It was set in stone, or so they thought.

Athene stood up, forcing herself to take her sweat-drenched clothes off and slip into her bed, twisting her body into a cocoon of blankets and sheets. The reality of the Hunger Games, which she had fought for so long, was coming back. She could die. Her life could be violently torn from the world and forgotten by all those inside it.

Then again, self-pity and fear were for those too weak to fight them. Both were trademarks of outlying tributes.

Sitting up, Athene ripped the sheets off of her bed and stalked over to the mirror inside of her bathroom. Flicking on the lights, she saw the bruises for the first time. On her neck, her side, her knees, large patches of discolored skin stood out on her body. The sight lit a small fire inside of her. How dare he take away the confidence she had built on the foundation of her sister's death? Slater was nothing but a fatherless brute that couldn't even save his own family, and she would _not _let him shake her like this. She may not come out the victor, she may die in the arena, but he would go first.

Slater O'Brien was a dead man walking.

* * *

**District 9**

* * *

Tanita watched as Kayn walked toward her from his end of the hall, his quiet, controlled footsteps and glinting eyes reminding her of the wildcats that were seen around the outskirts of their district. "What do you want?" she asked as he drew close enough to hear her. He had said it was important; it was something she would want to know.

"She's finally asleep," Kayn said, ignoring Tanita's question. "Come on." Sliding past the intimidating girl, Kayn opened the door into her room and stepped inside, gesturing for her to do the same.  
"Are you hiding from your mother?" Tanita asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Not her," Kayn said, finally letting his voice rise above a whisper as the door closed. "Clementine."

"Why does it matter what _she _hears?" Tanita asked, sitting in a tall, antique chair with a high back.

"Because I don't think she's just an escort," Kayn answered, letting out a deep sigh.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've talked to her a few times since the reapings, and something's not right. I think something is going on with the Games."

"Just spit it out," Tanita huffed, leaning forward with interest. "What did she say?"

"First of all," Kayn said, avoiding the girl's searching gaze. "You should know that the reaping was rigged." Tanita's mouth fell open in shock. What had he said?

If there was one thing that was drilled into the minds of every child in the districts of Panem, it was that the reapings were fair, and that your odds were the same as every other child. Your hope for a better life was secured by the impossible odds of you ever being chosen for the Games. With that taken away, what else was there?

"How do you know?" Tanita asked curtly, standing up and crossing quickly to the window.

"I saw the mayor give Clementine the paper with your name on it," Kayn replied. "She switched it with the one she picked from the bowl on the way to the microphone."

"Why?" Tanita growled, her hands tightening into fists. "Why _me_?"

"I guess you weren't the most popular citizen," Kayn said carefully. "The mayor must have wanted to get rid of you."

"That blubbering fool," Tanita spat, whirling around and speaking stiffly to herself. "I'll show them. What will they do when I come back? When I'm powerful enough to fight back?"

"You can't let it get to you," Kayn began before being interrupted.

"Get out," Tanita snapped, grabbing her partner by the shoulders and physically moving him through the doorway. "I'll see you in the arena."

* * *

_So it was, the calm before the storm._

_Isis slept fitfully, untold worries creasing her brow._

_Bliss lay on the floor, a layer of cold sweat covering his body from his last workout; his last moment of preparation before the Games._

_Slater pressed himself deep into the soft sheets of his bed, trying to rid himself of his adrenaline rush long enough to sleep._

_Athene tossed and turned in her bed, periodically standing up and pacing the length of the room._

_Cable sat huddled in the corner of the room, contemplating the loss of his only edge._

_Scarlette slept soundly, a small, careless smile lifting the corners of her mouth._

_Caspian sat on the edge of his bed, memories of his home and family running through his mind._

_Bass's eyes stayed wide open throughout the night, her thoughts on Julianette's questions, and her own answers._

_Andrew stood staring at the small cameras perched in the corners of his room, his mind on the Capitol._

_Grace sat on the edge of her bed, swinging her legs in the open space._

_Sawyer tried to sleep, but he could still hear the small girl's voice in his head._

_Skye finally cried the last of her tears and lay in her bed, completely empty._

_Chase's muscles tightened and his legs kicked beneath the blankets, his face twisting into a mask of fear in response to the horrifying nightmares._

_Rhia slept because she knew she had to, sleep would be scarce in the coming days._

_Aden lay with his arms around Colleen, running through the possible outcomes of the Games until he found one that he accepted._

_Colleen slept without a single worry, feeling safe in her fiancée's arms._

_Kayn sat, thinking over the events he had observed since the Games had begun. It all seemed to add up to something, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was._

_Tanita stood, shaking with fury, the blood still on her hands._

_Miles sat at the table in a darkened dining room, eating what might be his last peaceful meal._

_Bandit's eyes flew open every time she began to fall asleep, awakened by the images of the deaths of the other tributes, some at her hands._

_Till slept, his face twisted into a silent snarl._

_Lannah sat at the window of her bedroom, her mind abuzz with What ifs and questions._

_Marsh held a small sock tightly as he slept, dreaming that it was the same one he had lost._

_Serenity slept quietly, shaking slightly with every breath._

_Virgo stood in the empty, darkened control room, staring at the empty seats that would soon be filled with zealous Gamemakers._

And though they would all like to think that it wasn't, time continued it's relentless march toward the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello everyone! It's been a while, but I'm back! I'm excited to get back into writing, especially because it's time for the GAMES.**

**Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	26. Day One: Sand and Sea

**Day One: the Bloodbath**

* * *

Colleen, 8

* * *

Sixty seconds, Colleen thought, standing perfectly still on the metal plate that would soon be pushing her up into the arena. That's how much time she would have to take in her surroundings before the Games began. Aden would be focusing on their competitors, and because he would be distracted with them he had charged Colleen with the job of creating a mental map of the arena as fast as possible. She wouldn't let him down.

With a jolt the plate began to rise, causing Colleen's muscles to tense up and her breath to stop entirely. This was it. As soon as her head cleared the edge of the arena's floor, there was only one thing on Colleen's mind.

Darkness.

The entire arena was shrouded in the cool, mysterious veil of night; the cold, blue stars twinkling through the thin patches of stormy clouds that floated past like silent spectators. Colleen ripped her eyes from the sky as the countdown began.

_Sixty…_

_Fifty-nine…_

_Fifty-eight…_

The smell hit her as soon as her attention turned to her immediate surroundings, the salty, fresh spray on the strong breeze prompting the small girl to look behind her. The ocean. A huge, fathomless expanse of water that seemed to reach farther and farther up the white, sandy beaches with every swell.

_Forty-seven…_

_Forty-six…_

_Forty-five…_

So it was an island, Colleen thought quickly. Surrounded by water, almost completely comprised of soft, white sand, and populated by tall, swaying palm trees in small clusters around the edges. All of it together seemed much too small, though. This couldn't be the entire arena, could it?

_Thirty-four…_

_Thirty-three…_

_Thirty-two…_

Wait; there were bridges. Colleen's eyes focused on the tall, sputtering torches that stabbed into the sky at several intervals around the circular island. They weren't just there as decorations, they weren't there to have their flickering, orange glow reflected by the enormous bronze cornucopia, they were markers; Each pair of them signifying a small, natural connection between this island and what must be a cluster of other islands surrounding it. Perfect.

_Twenty-one…_

_Twenty…_

_Nineteen…_

Pushing several rogue strands of hair out of her face, Colleen made eye contact with Aden who stood on the plate two places to the right. Pointing discreetly to one of the bridges placed equally between the two, Colleen caught Aden's quick nod and breathed for the first time. Taking deep breaths, she prepared herself for a sprint that could mean the difference between life and death.

_Eight…_

_Seven…_

_Six…_

Colleen's heart raced. So much could change in the coming moments, and there was no way to predict the outcome.

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One…_

* * *

_Bliss, 1_

* * *

The gong sounded and Bliss flew off of the dark, metal disc. Not looking to either side, he dashed across the sand, sliding into the depths of the cornucopia and wrenching a wicked looking mace from the ground before finally looking up. Scanning the area, he caught sight of his teammates. Athene had just knocked the enormous boy from six to the ground, and was now making her way toward the multitude of weapons and supplies, Isis, Bass, and Caspian were still running up from opposite sides of the island, and Slater was already there, quickly hefting a large broadsword before turning to face their opponents.

But where were they? Sweeping his eyes back and forth over their surroundings, Bliss eventually caught sight of them: the anti-careers. The group of eight tributes was sprinting toward one of the small sandy bridges leading off of the island.

"Slater!" Bliss yelled, pointing his mace in the direction of the fleeing tributes as soon as Slater turned his head. "You're with me!" The two boys immediately charged forward, racing after their prey and leaving their teammates to deal with the situation at the cornucopia.

* * *

Bass, 4

* * *

Bass grabbed the first thing that came into view when she reached the cornucopia, a long, curved knife with a jagged edge. Looking around her she caught Caspian's attention and laughed as he flashed a quick, knowing smile. The sand, the sea, the breeze; this arena was built for district four. "I'll take care of them," Bass shouted to her partner, directing his attention to two incoming tributes. Springing forward with alarming speed, Bass clipped the side of the district ten girl's head with the butt of her knife, sending Bandit sprawling into the sand with a shriek. Dropping to her knees next to the girl, Bass swept her knife down in an arc aimed at Bandit's throat, only to be knocked away at the last second by Sawyer's hulking form. Feeling the soft tear of flesh vibrate through the handle of her knife, Bass looked up to see a long, deep cut reaching across the boy's chest from his left shoulder all the way to his right side. Pushing herself off of the ground, Bass lunged forward and sank her knife deep into the stunned boy's chest, watching the light in his eyes fade as she wrenched the weapon free.

The sound of the first cannon ripped through the night.

_Boom!_

* * *

_Till, 11 - Lannah, 11_

* * *

"Run," Till breathed heavily, shouldering a large supply bag and urging Lannah toward a small bridge that barely poked out of the water. Lannah opened her mouth to answer, but sucked in a much-needed breath instead, pushing herself to run as fast as she could. The two tributes pounded between the two torches marking their escape route, Till's eyes flicking up to the flames for a moment before returning to his partners running form. As they ran into the darkness the bridge grew narrower and narrower until Lannah finally slowed to a stop.

"We can't keep running," she gasped, breathing heavily. "I feel like I'm going to fall into the water with every step." Till looked back along the way they had come. They had put a good distance between themselves and the cornucopia, but they were still on the bridge, and while the sea provided protection on both sides, it left them with precious little options for an escape route if they ran into any other tributes.

"It's cold," Till muttered after dipping one of his feet into the dark water and quickly pulling it out. "Do you know how to swim?"

"No," Lannah breathed, almost laughing at the idea. "Does _anyone _in district eleven know how to swim?"

"Probably not," Till admitted, chuckling slightly before continuing. "We should get moving then. If anyone travels down our bridge we'll only have one way to go, and I don't like those odds." Lannah began to protest, but Till prodded her on, following behind her as they persisted on their journey toward whatever lay ahead.

* * *

_Caspian, 4_

* * *

Caspian tightened his grip on the long javelin and drew it back; keeping his eyes trained on his target, the boy from district three. "What are you _doing_?" A shrill voice called out, stopping Caspian in his tracks and even causing his prey to freeze for a moment. Turning to the source of the noise, Caspian saw Scarlette at the mouth of the cornucopia gesturing wildly with the glittering blade of a short sword. "He's not worth the time," she continued. "Go with Bliss and Slater!" Caspian looked back at the running boy before turning and sprinting in the direction of his allies, passing the cornucopia and gaining on them swiftly. Running on the pitted, shifting sand was second nature to him, and he caught up with his allies almost quickly enough to surprise himself.

Athene quickly joined the three boys, leaving Bass to protect the cornucopia with Scarlette and Isis, and Caspian noted the extensive display of weaponry she carried as the group of four tore across the sand in the direction of the group of fleeing tributes. The rest of the careers had only a single weapon a piece, and Caspian was a little worried that they might find themselves overwhelmed by the aggressive girl. Looking forward at their quarry, Caspian noticed the two smallest children falling behind the rest of their pack, the little boy gently urging on the rigid, stumbling blind girl. He winced when they descended on the two.

* * *

_Skye, 6_

* * *

"You can do it," Chase urged happily, pulling Skye along by the arm as their feet beat an unsteady rhythm across the sand. "We just have to keep up with the group!" Skye's lips opened to warn her friend of how close the careers were, but her words were cut off as her friend's hand ripped from her arm and his scream echoed across the water, leaving her standing alone in the darkness. Pitching herself forward away from the heavy breathing of the career pack, Skye's face met with the cold, unforgiving slap of water before she sank underneath the waves. She had thrown herself into the sea. Thrashing her limbs with all of her might, the small girl reached for something, _anything_ to hold on to, but her small, twitching hands only closed on the water around her. Just as she was about to give in to her overwhelming foe, a slippery hand curled around her ankle and hope swelled in the girl's chest as she was pulled through the water. Someone was pulling her out!

She did not burst into the open air.

She was not dragged onto the sand.

Dread leached through Skye's entire being as she realized she was not being pulled to safety, she was slipping slowly deeper into the bitter embrace of the sea. Whatever had wrapped itself around her ankle was not a friend. Feeling her lungs burn with the need for breath, she gave in to them, opening her mouth and allowing the salty water to rush into her lungs. She had never felt such pain, but she had never felt such pleasure as it faded away.

The second cannon sounded, but the echo didn't reach deep enough into the sea to meet the one it had sounded for.

_Boom!_

* * *

_Chase, 7 - Rhia, 7 - Aden, 8 - Colleen, 8 - Kayn, 9 - Tanita, 9 - Miles, 10_

* * *

Miles stopped and turned with the rest of the anti-careers when their younger members were caught, staring in horror as the small girl was sucked into the dark, swelling sea. Athene stood between the two glowing torches that marked the beginning of the anti-careers escape route, holding Chase off of the ground by the neck. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" she taunted, the light radiating from the dancing flames obscuring her vision of the huddled group. Kayn stood to meet the challenge, but was stopped by Aden's outstretched arm. "Oh, come on," Athene continued, giving Chase a shake. "Don't you want to save your little _friend_?"

"Don't do it!" Chase squealed, whimpering in pain. "Run!"

"But there's only four of us," Athene argued, dropping the boy on the ground and kneeling on his gut. "There are six of you, right? It sounds like the odds are in your favor!" Athene laughed cruelly at Chase's guttural cries of pain.

"We're going to do something, right?" Kayn asked in a worried whisper, looking to Aden for the answer.

"We have to fight them on _our _terms," Aden said, refusing to make eye contact with the rest of the group. "We can't afford to just run at them blindly."

"So you're condemning him to death?" Miles asked, his lips curling back in disgust. Aden didn't have an answer.

"No?" Athene called out disappointedly, getting to her feet and dragging Chase with her. "Okay then, I guess we'll let you run. Have fun pretending like you're safe." Athene pushed Chase toward Bliss and gave the tall boy a curt nod. "But remember, you're still going to die like _everyone else_." Bliss ignored Chase's pleading cries, tightening his grip on the boy's neck and giving it a sharp twist. The small boy's crumpled corpse dropped into the sand like an empty sack.

"See you tomorrow," Bliss growled, turning with the rest of the careers and stalking back to the cornucopia as the third cannon sounded throughout the arena.

"I can't wait," Rhia whispered darkly, watching Bliss's broad shoulders disappear into the darkness.

* * *

Bliss, 1 - Isis, 1 - Slater, 2 - Athene, 2 - Scarlette, 3 - Caspian, 4 - Bass, 4 - Serenity, 12

* * *

Scarlette sat on a crate with her legs crossed, watching Bass and Isis drag supplies into the depths of the cornucopia. "Why don't you get up and help, princess," Isis huffed, struggling to move what appeared to be a crate full of tropical fruit.

"I'm on lookout duty," Scarlette replied, flashing Isis an innocent smile. "I have to make sure no one sneaks up on you."

"Well, surprise, you've been relieved of your duty," Isis smirked, nudging Scarlette off of her crate and taking the seat for herself. "Get to work." Bass laughed at Scarlette's clear disapproval, taking a seat next to Isis and watching the girl begin to organize the supplies. The rest of the careers marched into camp soon after, prompting Scarlette to quit her task and slink over to Bliss's side. "What happened?" she asked, giving him a quick hug that he ignored.

"They got away," Slater answered, looking up from the pile of weaponry.

"_All _of them?!" Isis asked, staring at the group in shock.

"Didn't you hear the cannons?" Athene answered, scowling at Isis. "We got two; the little weak ones."

"Oh, congratulations," Isis sneered. "It's good to hear you're living up to your potential."

"The rest of them don't have any supplies or weapons though," Caspian quickly pointed out, putting a hand on Athene's shoulder before she had the chance to charge at the smaller girl. "If we hadn't chased them away they may have gotten something that could change the outcome of the Games."

"What exactly did_ you_ accomplish while we were gone?" Athene asked Isis angrily, pushing Caspian's hand away. A small cough coming from inside the cornucopia interrupted Isis's answer, causing all seven careers to jump up, weapons in hand and pointed toward the sound. "Come out where we can see you," Slater commanded. Slowly, Serenity stepped from the shadows created by the flickering torches and stood in front of the group, her eyes glued to the sand at their feet.

"Oh, it's just you," Scarlette sighed in relief, dropping back into her seat and sheathing her sword. "Why the heck were you hiding in there?" Serenity's only answer was to point a small, shaking finger back in the depths of the bronze monument. Caspian took a step forward and looked where the girl was pointing, his brow creasing as he searched the shadows. Suddenly, a piece of the shadow broke away from the rest and streaked out of the mouth of the cornucopia, racing past the stunned gasps of the careers.

"Do something!" Athene screamed, watching the boy from district twelve sprint away with a number of light supplies. Groaning in frustration at her team's failure to act, Athene ripped the javelin from Caspian's hands and took several long strides forward, pulling her arm back and launching the projectile at the running figure. The weapon sailed silently through the air, its deadly arc ending with the sound of shredding flesh and breaking bones. Pitching forward, Marsh screamed in agony, staring down at his ruined body and the spearhead protruding from it. The pain renewing with every uncontrollable shudder, Marsh finally blacked out, his mouth still open in a silent scream.

"He's still alive," Bass said quietly as they all waited for the cannon that wouldn't sound. One by one the careers turned back to their tasks, leaving Athene alone to finish the job. While the rest of the group sorted through weapons, claiming several for themselves, Athene stalked over to the body struggling to draw breath, wrenched the javelin from his back and plunged it back into the crumpled form.

There was no question now. The cannon sounded. The boy was dead.

* * *

_Rhia, 7 - Aden, 8 - Colleen, 8 - Kayn, 9 - Tanita, 9 - Miles, 10_

* * *

"What is that?" Colleen asked, pausing the group in their relentless march across the island and away from the careers.

"What is _what_?" asked Miles, annoyed at the interruption.

"There, behind those trees," she explained, jogging ahead of the group to investigate. "Is that a house?" The rest of the group quickly joined her as she rounded the rapidly thickening group of trees. Set atop tall, weather-beaten stilts, a small shelter stood far above the ground, it's darkened doorway staring down at the tributes like a large, malevolent eye.

"I'll check it out," Aden said immediately, walking carefully over to the thin rungs of a ladder that stretched up toward the structure. The group watched silently as he climbed up to the top of the ladder, faltering only for a moment on a broken rung. Reaching an arm out, Aden grabbed the edge of the doorway and pulled himself up into the darkness, disappearing from the view of his team. Colleen held her breath. "It's empty!" Aden finally shouted, leaning out of the doorway and gesturing for them to join him. The inside of the wooden structure was plain and rough, only the smallest amount of pale light coming through the empty doorway, but the room was large enough to fit all six of the boys and girls.

"Why would this be here?" Kayn asked when they had all found their places. "There's never been anything like this in the Games before."

"Maybe there's something that we're going to need shelter from?" Colleen wondered aloud. "If the sky gets any worse, it could rain."

"Why would they bother protecting us from the rain?" Rhia asked quietly, scooting into the shadows in the corner of the room.

"Mutts?" Tanita asked.

"That could be it," Aden answered definitively. "If that's the case, we're going to need more than this hut to protect ourselves. We should probably see if we can find any rocks or sticks down on the ground."

"Rocks and sticks?" Miles inquired disappointedly. "We're going to defend ourselves with rocks and _sticks_? Is that how we're going to kill the careers too? By throwing sticks at them?"

"Don't worry about that," Aden assured him. "I've got the weapons problem figured out, just wait and see."

"Maybe I'm tired of waiting," Miles leered, pushing Aden up against the wall. "It's time to spill the beans, eight."

"Get off, _Andelin_," Aden spat. Miles slammed him against the wall again at the mention of his false identity.

"Don't talk to me like that, little guy," Miles snarled.

"He said _get off._" Miles looked behind him and saw both Kayn and Rhia standing behind him with their arms crossed. Miles laughed, stepping away from Aden.

"Oh, don't look so serious," he chuckled. "I was just messing around. We understand each other, right Aden?"

"That's two strikes," Kayn continued, ignoring Miles' statement. "One more and you're out, understood?"

"Understood."

"Good."

* * *

**A/N**

**Ah, the gruesome Bloodbath, how it paints the Games in its true colors. (You may have noticed that the rating for this story went from K to T because of violence... Oh well.)**

**Notes on Deaths:**

**1. Sawyer. To be honest, his death surprised me as much as it may have surprised you. I had his journey throughout the Games all mapped out in my mind, and then (before I could tell my fingers to stop) he was dead.**

**2. Skye. So sad to see her go. A lot of people wanted her to continue, but there was no stopping it.**

**3. Chase. This was another death that I really didn't want to happen, but went forward with anyway. The idea just kind of snowballed until he was dead to me. Dead to me, and dead to my world of Panem.**

**4. Marsh. Yikes... this death was a little grisly. There's no stopping Athene though.**

**I'm going to post a "map" of sorts on the blog, with directional arrows for the paths of the different groups, some hints about the terrain, and kill spots. Go check it out!  
**

**Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	27. Getting Started

**Getting Started**

* * *

Aden, 8 - ?, ?

* * *

Aden climbed swiftly down the odd shelter's ladder, jumping past the last few steps and landing with a thump next to the figure cloaked by the shadows cast by the pale moon. "I thought we were waiting for the second night?" Aden asked, keeping his voice low.

"They all went to sleep right away," the figure answered. "Even though the Games started at night, they're still planning on hunting during the day."

"That's good to know," Aden mused, glancing back up to where the rest of his team was sleeping soundly. "What all did you get?" The figure turned and lifted a large pack off of the ground, a beam of ghostly light illuminating her face for a moment before she stepped back into shadow.

"Obviously none of it is the best of the best," she began, opening the pack and displaying its contents. "They would have noticed if something too major disappeared right away. I got you six knives, a hatchet, a sword, and two sickles. That's all for weapons though."

"Sounds good," Aden said, closing the pack and swinging it up onto his shoulder. "Is there any food in here?"

"Sorry," the girl shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "The food is under strict organizing for rations. I couldn't get anything."

"That's fine for now," Aden replied. "But make sure you grab something next time."

"Don't order me around," she said indignantly, crossing her arms and squaring herself against her ally. "I'm not one of your little followers."

"_Please_ make sure you grab some food next time," Aden corrected himself, his wide smile forcing the same grin on his ally's face. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I hope so," she muttered. "Aden, don't do anything stupid, and don't get too close to Athene. No amount of planning can save you _or _your girlfriend if she finds you."

"Don't worry," Aden said over his shoulder, climbing up the ladder as he spoke. "We'll be fine."

* * *

Bandit, 10

* * *

Bandit awoke as the light of the rising sun reflected off of the glassy sea and into her eyes. Sitting up, she immediately hugged her knees to her chest, fighting the cool breeze coming from the water. The scene was too peaceful, she thought, too picturesque. The sand was too soft, the sky was too blue, the water was too clear. The world was too beautiful for what she had witnessed last night.

Sawyer.

Whenever she closed her eyes her mind replayed the scene: Her weakness, and his rescue, the girl from four's ferocity, and Sawyer's death. It had all happened so fast. Tears began to fall from Bandit's eyes. Why had he saved her? Why had he sacrificed his own life for hers? Whatever his motives had been, his act fueled her need to go home. He had invested in her future, so she was no longer carrying only one life through the Games, now she was carrying both her and her partner's to the end.

Standing up, Bandit watched as the bronze cornucopia began to shine, perfectly reflecting the morning sun. Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed several figures walking around the piles of supplies. If she could see the careers, they could see her. Turning to the right Bandit continued along the sandy bridge toward what she hoped would be a safe, isolated island for her to camp on.

Making her way across through the pair of torches and onto the larger landmass, Bandit breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the shade of a large group of palm trees. Though it was still the early in the morning, the sun was starting to sizzle where it touched her bare skin, and the only thing that worried her more than the pink hue that was appearing on her burnt arms and neck, was the growing thirst that seemed to eat at her from the inside. Hopefully there would be some kind of hidden water source within the island. Walking further into the depths of the jungle, Bandit noticed a small group of thin, catlike creatures crowded around one of the tall, bent palm trees. Looking up into the leaves, she quickly detected their prey; a round, grey, and pudgy-looking bird perched atop the tree. It looked similar to a guinea fowl, one of the birds bred back in district ten, and if she could somehow rescue it from its attackers it could serve as her next several meals. Bandit searched her surroundings for some kind of weapon to fight the cats with when she noticed the cats stiffening up and turning as one to face her, their mouths open in loud hisses and the hair on their backs standing on end. Something had alerted them to her presence. Just as Bandit turned to run from the lithe creatures, she realized what had warned the cats: A pinging sound coming from a silver parachute carrying a large case. As the case floated closer to the base of the tree the noise grew louder and the cats scattered, disappearing quickly into the large group of trees that obscured Bandit's vision of the rest of the island. "What?" Bandit muttered aloud, confused by the cats' retreat. Since when did mutts run from the tributes? As soon as she reached the parachute, the small girl smiled as she recognized the shape of the package. Ripping the top off of the box, Bandit pulled a gleaming bronze bow out into the humid air, her fingers tingling with the familiar feel of the grip. While it was still early on in the Games, and the bow had undoubtedly cost exponentially less than it would have later on, the gift would still have been worth more than her family had ever had. The people of district ten were on her side, and with them, Sawyer's motivation, and this bow, she actually might be able to get home.

Pulling an arrow from the depths of the case, Bandit stood, turned, and nocked it in one fluid motion. It was time to go hunting.

* * *

Athene, 2 - Bliss, 1

* * *

Athene pulled Bliss away from the group surrounding the campfire, ignoring his tired protests and the questioning looks of the other careers. "What do you want, Athene?" Bliss huffed, his mouth opening into a gaping yawn.

"I want _you_," Athene answered, watching the group over her shoulder. "I need you to kill Slater." Bliss stood up a little straighter.

"What?" he asked, realizing why she had been so scared that the others were listening. "Why do you need me? Why don't you do it yourself?" Athene lifted the edge of her shirt to reveal the darkened bruises from her encounter with Slater the night before.

"He almost killed me the night before the Games," Athene admitted. "He's over emotional about this whole situation, and he can't control himself. He needs to go."

"You're afraid?" Bliss asked, staring in shock at the girl as if he had never seen her before.

"No," Athene objected. "I just realize that technically he _may_ have the upper hand in a one on one fight with me, especially because he hates me. He doesn't hate you, so a fight with you won't have the same emotional relevance."

"So why me?" Bliss asked, still surprised by her last answer. "Why not hire the district four duo?"

"That doesn't matter," Athene replied. "When Slater dies, I won't have a district partner and I'll be forced to choose sides with either you and Isis, or Caspian and Bass. Whichever side I choose will have the upper hand against the other side of the career pack when we split. Do you want me with you? Or with district four?" Bliss paused, watching Athene's face. She wasn't telling him everything, he was sure of that, but he couldn't see any obvious faults to the plan.

"I'll do it," he answered. "He's as good as dead."

* * *

Rhia, 7 - Colleen, 8 - Tanita, 9

* * *

Rhia stalked forward between the trees, the hatchet acquired by Aden held loosely in her hand. Tanita, Colleen, and herself had been sent out to see if there were any harvestable food sources in their immediate area while the boys went on a scouting trip to check on the careers, and the two older girls weren't planning on wasting the time alone with their leader. "So Colleen," Tanita was saying, swinging a long knife aimlessly through the hanging vines and tall bushes. "Where did Aden get the weapons?" Rhia smiled. She had told Tanita to be subtle, but it looked like they would be taking a different approach.

"We have a source," Colleen smiled sweetly, stooping to inspect a small, leafy plant. "It's not that important."

"That's where we disagree," Tanita countered, standing directly in front of her. "We think it's _very_ important."

"We're done not knowing," Rhia agreed calmly. "Tell us."

"Girls, please," Colleen stammered, trying and failing to push past Tanita. "Just wait until Aden gets back, and we'll tell everyone."

"No," Tanita growled, pushing back a little too hard and knocking Colleen to the ground.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you." Colleen tried to get up but was stopped by Rhia's foot on her arm.

"I didn't want this to escalate," Rhia said, hefting the axe and tightening her grip on its leather handle. "I don't want to break up the alliance or hurt anyone that is a part of it, but I _do _want to know everything you guys are hiding. Now." Fear stole Colleen's breath as she lay, looking up at the faces of her two allies. As much confidence as she could conjure up in any given moment, this was no place for it. She could die here and now, and Aden was nowhere to be seen.

"We have an insider in the career pack," Colleen admitted quickly. "She's bringing us the weapons at night when it's her turn to keep watch. We didn't persuade her, _she _approached _us._ She wants the rest of the careers dead."

"Who?" Tanita burst out.

"It's…" Colleen paused.

"Tell us!" Rhia shouted, hoping the emotional approach would bring a reaction. She wasn't disappointed.

"Athene!" Colleen yelled back, her breath coming in deep gulps. "She knows that the rest of the careers hate her, so she thinks she can win by making us into serious competition and having the two groups fight it out."

"You're allied with _Athene_?" Tanita gasped.

"You expect us to believe that all that stuff during training was an _act_?" Rhia snapped. "And what does that mean for_ Chase_?" Rhia's voice began to rise to a shout, forcing a flock of grey birds to fly from their refuge in the branches of a tree down to the ground where they dashed away into the bushes. "Did you have his death planned from the beginning?!"

"No!" Colleen exclaimed. "Chase's death was unfortunate, but necessary. The careers were starting to doubt Athene's worth, and she had to reinforce it somehow. She saw the opportunity, and she took it. We didn't agree to it, but we recognize its worth."

"He _was _going to die eventually," Tanita mumbled, walking away and continuing her search for food as if nothing had happened. "I suppose we can't blame you for that." Rhia took her foot off of Colleen's arm and held out a hand.

"We hope you'll be more forthcoming from now on," she said, pulling Colleen back onto her feet. "And tell Aden too, no more secrets." Colleen nodded her head, dropping to the back of the trio as Rhia joined Tanita. She would everything, but he was not going to be happy.

* * *

Cable, 3

* * *

Cable stumbled along the bridge, cursing under his breath as the pack he had managed to grab at the cornucopia slipped off of his shoulders and splashed into the water. Scrambling to pull it out, Cable immediately unzipped the pack and dumped its contents on the sand to see if anything had been damaged. Picking up each object in turn, he inspected it quickly before stuffing it back into its case. The bandages were okay, the dried fruit was still sealed, and the empty glass bottle was fine, even the matches were completely unharmed. Of course, Cable realized, the pack must be waterproof. Alta would have known that already, and had probably covered her face in humiliation when she saw him rush to check his supplies. He needed to focus; think like she would think. Standing up and shouldering the pack once again, Cable continued along the bridge.

The sun was climbing higher on its journey across the sky, and the burning light reflecting off of the waves hit the boy from all angles. He could feel his skin burning, and his shaggy hair was trapping the heat on his head and making it boil. All of this was weighing on his mind when he reached the fork in the road. Groaning in frustration, Cable dragged his pack off of his back and onto his face, doing anything to block the sun. Looking to the right all he could see was the bridge and the sea, the same thing he saw when he looked behind him. When he looked to the left, he could see a large island with what looked like a small mountain crowning its left shore. If he went to the island he could set up camp, but he would be closer to the careers. If he went across the longer bridge he could get farther away, but he might not make it to shelter before he burned away to nothing. He went to the island.

As he got closer to the large island Cable noticed how large it actually was. Easily larger than the island hosting the cornucopia, this land mass had to be the largest in the entire arena. A group of trees surrounded the base of the mountain, and their shadows reached forward to the boy, as if beckoning him forward to the refuge they provided. Pitching himself forward, Cable landed on his face in the shade, tears of joy leaking from the corners of his eyes as the cool sand touched his cheek. Rolling onto his back, Cable brushed away the sand that clung to his cheeks and forehead, his fingers meeting a round pebble mixed in with the sand. Holding it up closer, Cable marveled at the stone's soft edges, and its dark, violet hue. What had inspired the Gamemakers to include this? Opening his pack, Cable dropped the small purple sphere into the glass bottle, noticing for the first time that several of the little orbs were scattered in the sand under these trees. Picking them up one by one, Cable collected them in the small bottle. As he pinched the last stone to squeeze it into the space left in the small bottle, the stone cracked, liquid matching the outer shell of the stone leaking out onto Cable's hands. Cable dropped what he had believed to be the stone on the ground, looking down at his stained fingertips. Was it some kind of berry? Bringing his fingers to his lips, Cable tasted the strange liquid. It was bitter. Laying his head down on the pack, Cable closed his eyes. He would sleep for now, and whatever the orbs were, he would find out when he woke up.

* * *

Grace, 5 - Andrew, 5

* * *

Grace sat on the beach, her toes dangling in the water as she watched the sun set, its last rays painting the waves with pink and purple hues. Andrew had already lit the fire for the night, and was gathering the firewood it would take to last them until the morning. This had been only day of peace. They had known that the careers would take a day to organize themselves and strategize, so they hadn't bothered with worry or fear. Imagining encounters with the other tributes would only scatter their thoughts and leave them less prepared for a real one.

"Grace," Andrew called from behind her, causing her to turn quickly. Seeing him pointing toward the waves, Grace turned back and saw what he had seen. A long, gliding shadow was moving underneath the water. Jumping away from the shore, Grace reached behind her and caught the spear Andrew had thrown without being asked, never taking her eyes off of the sea snake. The creature slid from the water onto the sand, its muscled length gleaming with iridescent scales. Nodding at her brother, Grace approached the snake from the front as he circled around behind, holding his own spear high above his head. The snake hissed, curling back on itself and rising into air. Grace feinted forward, pulling back almost as soon as she moved to take a step. The snake, falling victim to the false opportunity, burst forward, all of its energy put into the single strike. As the beast moved forward, Andrew leapt over its swishing tail and stabbed the head of his spear through the snake's neck, pinning it to the ground. The tail thrashed in the air as the life leeched out of the dying creature, the scales rubbing against Andrew's leg as the tail curled around his leg in a vain attempt at revenge. When it finally stopped moving Andrew looked up at Grace, immediately noticing the confused look on her face. Catching his questioning glance, Grace shrugged.

"He was there all day," she said quietly. "I've been watching him for a couple of hours." Andrew picked up the snake and dragged it toward their campfire, slapping it onto a stone sitting in the midst of the flames.

"What changed?" he asked, his back turned to her as he slit the snake open to reveal the meat locked within the skin.

"It must have been the sun," Grace answered, sitting across from him. If it was true, and she was sure that it was, it meant this wouldn't be as restful of a night as they'd wished. Andrew glanced to the left, back into the water, over to the rocks, and up into the trees, and Grace had no trouble catching the message meant for each direction. If the sunset changed the temperament of the mutts in the arena it meant that the fat grey birds they had chased away from their nest, the snakes she had seen in the water, the cat creatures they had seen eating crabs, and even the songbirds she had whistled to were all going to be threats until the sun rose.

Wonderful.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello everyone! Sorry it's been so long, I've been developing an original novel, and I'm not very good at creatively multi-tasking.**

**No deaths today! How intriguing. o_O Each successive chapter might take a little longer than the reapings did. This is mostly because I have a new job that has been a little crazy, but also, I have yet to discover who the Victor will be, and I don't want to accidentally kill him/her off. That would be upsetting.**

**As usual, the updated map is on my blog! Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	28. A Beastly Night

**A Beastly Night**

* * *

**Mercedes Virgo, Gamemakers HQ, the Capitol**

* * *

The sun had now disappeared from the arena. It was time to start the fun.

Virgo reached across her desk and quickly typed an abbreviated command on the silver keys, watching her words appear on the screens in front of the other Gamemakers that crowded the small, immaculate room. A flurry of activity and hurried conversation erupted throughout the room as the individual Gamemakers received the message and reacted accordingly. "They're all settling down, Virgo," the Tribute Examiner and resident behaviorism specialist said, the precious metals in the woman's hair chiming softly as she turned her head. "Not a single one of the groups is active."

"I'm sending the final designs and locations to your desk on line seven," a mutt designer informed Virgo from across the room, going back to his work as soon as she made eye contact and confirmed that his message had been received with a nod.

"The songbirds are going to be late," a large, wheezing man named Orhior said from his seat relatively close to Mercedes. "It can't be helped either, the blasted things still aren't responding to pulse commands."

"You've been working on that _all day_," Virgo muttered, rubbing her eyes as she checked over the mutts on line seven.

"I know," Orhior admitted, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a gleaming silken handkerchief. "I'm logging each individual bird's command sequence into a group delivery system manually, and it's rather time-consuming."

"Consider your birds out of the Games for tonight then," Virgo exhaled.

"What?!" the man snapped. "These are my crowning achievement, you cannot just _discard _them."

"Yes she can." The room grew silent as one by one the Gamemakers began to notice the President standing as still as a statue in the doorway.

"Thank you, Mr. President. Can I help you?" Virgo asked politely, her eyes scanning the room for a face that was less shocked than her own. A visit from Snow was quite unusual this early in the Games. Did someone call him in?

"Carry on, Mercedes," Snow replied. "I am merely here to observe."

"Well," Virgo smiled, turning back to the map of the arena displayed on her desk. "Feel free to ask any questions that you might have." The silence in the room continued for a moment before the rest of the Gamemakers slowly resumed their tasks, unnerved by Snow's dominating presence.

"Please reconsider the songbirds," Orhior continued under his breath, hiding his request in the cacophony of sounds created by the various preparations going on in the room. "I've been talking about them since the reaping, and I'll be socially destroyed if they don't even make an appearance."

"I did not say that I was getting rid of them completely," Virgo answered, looking the man in the eyes. "I will consider using them at a later date, but not until you have the _completed_ group delivery system on my desk, is that understood?" Orhior nodded, sagging into his chair with relief.

"The gates are waiting!" Lattice called from across the room, her long nails glittering as she fluttered her fingers in anticipation.

"Everyone listen," Virgo announced, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "The stage is set, and the gates are waiting to open." A cheer went up from the Gamemakers. "Paris, you said district five to the north, correct?" The man nodded. "Well, my fellow Gamemakers, let's show Panem what we can do."

* * *

**The Mentors:**

**1: Gold Sparks, Velvet Blot**

**2: Cage Mane, Alice Quarry**

**3: Buzz Rorik, Margaret Plexigon**

**4: Bain Shores, Misty Lybrand**

**5: Norman Ray, Georgia Parks**

**6: Pilate Pierson, Sidney Wake**

**7: Maple Davis**

**8: Emilys Hatch**

**9: Anna Topekh**

**10: Cliff Wright, Ramona Fowler**

**11: Chaff Lerman, Seeder Pots**

**12: N/A**

* * *

Bain Shores and Misty Lybrand sat in the tall, elegant bar stools set around the bar in the Victor's lounge, separated far enough away from the rest of the group that their whispered thoughts on the ongoing Games could not be heard. "That rules out Slater," Misty was saying. "If Athene wants him dead, and she's willing to expose her own weakness to do it, there's no way he can come out alive."

"I think you may be a little swept up in the craze," Bain chuckled. Cage Mane, Athene's mentor, had attended every party held for the Games since his tribute's score was announced, and hearing him talk about the vicious girl made one think she was an invincible goddess of war. The crowds were whipped into a frenzy, and all of the most experienced betters were getting ready for a district two win.

"Yes, maybe I am, but why shouldn't I?" Misty kept her eyes on one of the many monitors displayed in the large room, not taking her eyes off of the arena for a moment as she spoke to her fellow mentor. "She reminds me a lot of myself."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bain exhaled, filling his glass up with a clear, foaming liquid. "If she was anything like _you_ Slater would be dead, Isis would be dead, Scarlette would be dead; most likely everyone would be dead. How long did your Games last again?" Misty smiled.

"Eight days."

"Eight days!" Bain exclaimed. "Athene is nothing like you." Misty muttered a weak complaint, but her grin gave away the pleasure she felt at the man's praise. The two were interrupted as a gasp went up from the group of mentors gathered around the enormous silver screen on the other side of the room.

"Mutts!" Ramona Fowler called, signaling every mentor to crowd around the rapidly moving images of the Games.

**The Games**

_The slick, pale fur of the lithe felines reflected the moonlight perfectly as the group of cats crept across the forest floor as one, their target sleeping unsuspecting against the base of a tree_. _The girl stirred in her sleep, stopping all of the mutts in their tracks, but after only a moment of hesitation they continued their march across the sand._

**The Mentors**_  
_

"She had better wake up quick," Anna Topekh commented, directing the comment at the girl's mentor, Ramona. "They set the stealth cats on us in my own Games, and while they may have been engineered for stealth and silence, a group that big could still pose quite a problem."

"I remember that," Cliff Wright muttered, his eyes glued to the sight of the sleeping tribute in mortal peril. "I was only eight, but my family had a white cat that looked a lot like them. My dad had to kill it just to get me to stop crying."

"How many did they kill?" Ramona asked, tapping her fingers nervously against the edge of her seat as the cats crept closer to their soon-to-be victim.

"Two," Anna replied. "The first was a small girl who couldn't have saved herself from a bush, but the second was the boy from four. He almost got away, but there were _so many _of them." Ramona stood, slipping a small device out of her pocket, holding it to her ear, and stepping quickly away from the other mentors.

"Send it now," she snapped. "_Now_."

**The Games**

_The memory from earlier that day registered as soon as the cats saw the small, blinking parachute appear in the sky and float toward the girl. The girl had been fixated on it, and it had quickly caught her attention. She was going to wake up. Yowling fiercely the cats lunged across the sand, their long, thin bodies extending fully as their strides brought them closer and closer to the girl. The parachute landed next to Bandit and she woke up. Only allowed a moment of confusion before the cats were on her. Screaming, the girl batted away the first cat with her arm, kicking wildly at the others as they tore and scratched at every piece of bare skin. Her hands finally landed on her bow and she used it to bring herself to her feet. Sweeping the weapon back and forth in quick, vicious arcs, Bandit cleared the mutts from around her, picked the parachute up off of the ground and ran. The cats pursued her, scratching at her heels as she was driven deeper and deeper into the island. Clambering up onto a rock that jutted up into the air, Bandit dropped her extra supplies and pulled back an arrow, shooting it into the pack of feral cats. The closely-knit group scattered as two of their own were pierced through their sides and left hissing in pain, stuck together by the arrow that would end their lives. Bandit took a deep breath as the cats slowed down, circling the island and watching her warily. She could do this. She just had to make every arrow count._

**The Mentors**

"Clever," Emilys commented upon Ramona's return. "She probably would have died if that parachute hadn't woken her." Ramona smiled wearily. "What was in the package?"

"She'll find out when she's finished off the cats," Cliff answered, cutting off Ramona's reply as the image changed from Bandit butchering her attackers to the careers standing in a circle around their campfire, their weapons at the ready.

"It's a good thing she roused them when she did," Margaret Plexigon said to the district one mentors, smiling proudly at Scarlette's quick decision to wake the other careers as soon as the gray birds had began to congregate on the beach in front of the cornucopia. "She has turned out to be a very _valuable _asset for the alliance." Gold Sparks twisted his face into a tight grin.

"Yes she has," he replied. Perhaps she was even _too _valuable. "However, anyone else would have done the same."

"Perhaps," Margaret grinned, reveling in the large man's discomfort. This was the first time that Gold had worked a tribute from district three into his precious alliance, and the old fool was obviously opposed to the idea.

**The Games**

"_How many?" Athene called, her eyes scanning the flock of birds that now completely concealed the sand on the outer ring of the beach._

"_A lot," Scarlette replied. "Probably around two hundred and counting." The careers all faced the enormous group of birds, the only exception being the girl from district twelve who sat huddled next to her medical supplies in the back of the cornucopia._

"_What are they?" Isis asked, examining the fluttering birds for weaknesses._

**_Julianette Dior, "The 49th Hunger Games LIVE!"_**

"What are they, indeed?" Juliette Dior said, restating the girl's question to all the people of Panem. "The small birds most commonly known as Famine Birds were engineered during the Dark Days and were used not as weapons against the rebels themselves, but against their food supply instead. The small birds would be air dropped in large numbers into the territory where they would then consume everything in sight. The individual birds were easily exterminated, but due to their high reproduction rate they continued to plague the rebels far after the brunt of them were first introduced into the ecosystem. You at home may be thinking, 'Why didn't the rebels just eat the birds?' The answer is simple. A sac of acid is released in the birds' stomach as soon as brain activity ceases, and not only does it render the meat unappealing, it is also poisonous. The appearance of the Famine Birds is a _very_ interesting obstacle for the alliance that won the cornucopia, as those tributes tend to rely on those supplies to keep them fed throughout the Games."

**The Games**

_The birds attacked. In a flurry of wings and outstretched beaks the birds swarmed toward the cornucopia and the tributes standing at its mouth, the sheer mass of birds overwhelming the tributes despite their wild attempts to fend them off. With swords, maces, and axes swinging through the air, the birds were dropping by the dozens, their limp gray bodies falling to the sand and quickly being crushed by the boots of the tributes as they continued their deadly dance. "There are too many!" a voice cried out, its source unidentifiable in the chaos._

"_They're taking the food!" another voice called. "They're not fighting back!"_

**The Mentors**

Cage Mane growled in annoyance. "Famine Birds?!" he complained to Alice. "How did they allow those in the Games? All the tributes will starve to death!"

"They only behave like Famine Birds at night," Alice announced. "That's straight from the Gamemakers. Lattice said you could even _eat _them if you kill them during the day. Besides, look at them. They're beautiful." The feathers falling from the dying birds cast an ever-shifting, ever-changing shadow on the glittering white sand, and the visual image was nothing short of breathtaking. Mercedes Virgo would surely go down in history for this amazing spectacle.

**The Games**

_When the birds were finally gone, the careers stood panting on an island blanketed in carcasses. "Is everyone okay?" Bliss asked, inspecting a few shallow scratches on his forearms. Everyone was fine._

"_They were Famine Birds," Isis stated. "I should have recognized them sooner. Nobody eat them, there's acid in their bodies that makes them poisonous."_

"_All right," Athene barked, assuming command. "Isis, you and Serenity gather a few birds and harvest some poison for us. Everyone else start clearing these little beasts off of the island. I'm not wallowing in rotting bird brains for the rest of the Games." Slater began to protest, but was silenced as the rest of the group fell to their tasks immediately. Now was not the time for a confrontation._

**The Mentors**

"Which will it be," Cliff Wright asked the other anti-career mentors. "Birds or cats?" Anna watched their alliance thoughtfully. "I suppose they're close enough to the water that it could be snakes, but if I had to choose between the two I would say cats. They don't have enough food to begin with." Emilys nodded her head in agreement.

"Unless they have something previously unseen, though I highly doubt it," she said thoughtfully, "The wonder of this arena seems to be the dual nature of each mutt. Did anyone else see the footage of the Andronicus girl drowning?"

"I did." The group turned to see Maple Davis standing behind them, her arms wrapped tightly around her. "Something grabbed her; something that wasn't a snake."

**The Games**

_Aden slid down the ladder, cursing under his breath when his hand caught a sliver of the rough wood. Searching the dark surroundings, Aden was confused. It was the right time, but his contact was nowhere to be seen. Where was she? "Hello?" a voice whispered. Whipping around, Aden saw someone raising slowly out of the water several paces behind the shelter._

"_Is it you?" Aden asked, walking forward._

"_Yes," the voice whispered. The water falling off of the figure's long, dripping hair created small ripples in the quiet lagoon, distorting the image of the stunning display of stars reflected in the pool for only a moment before the water's glassy surface was restored. "Come closer, I cannot leave the water."_

**Julianette Dior, "The 49th Hunger Games LIVE!"**

Julianette's jaw dropped. "Ladies and gentleman, what you see at the edge of the lagoon is _not _a tribute. In fact, it is a mutt known as Shabriri, a truly ancient term used for water demons. Unlike the Famine Birds, Shabriri were designed specifically to kill rebels, and were often 'planted' in the rebels' water supplies in order to do so. Shabriri were developed when we realized that the rebels were slaughtering the weaponized mutts in droves, and never hesitated to do so. By giving the Shabriri the ability to imitate a human face and other qualities, we created the best of both worlds; a created beast that not only caused the hesitation of the rebels, but generated unrest between them. The perfect weapon."

**The Games**

"_Why can't you leave the water?" Aden asked, inching closer to the water's edge._

"_I can't see your face, come closer," the Shabriri whispered. Aden did as he was told, hesitating for a moment when his foot touched the water._

"_You don't have any clothes on," he stated, his eyes glued on the girl's bare shoulders._

"_Come into the water with me," the Shabriri smiled. "Have a little fun." Aden looked back at the shelter, where his team, Colleen included, was relying on him to keep watch. "She won't find out," the mutt continued. "She's asleep."_

**The Mentors**

"What a horrible beast," Emilys murmured, preparing for the death of yet another tribute. After forty-four years of the Games, and eighty-eight tributes dying under her supervision, the woman had grown accustomed to this moment. Chillingly accustomed to it.

"I thought you had something going this year," Anna commented dryly. "I guess you'll just have to wait for next time."

"He's still got a chance," Maple said. "Look."

**The Games**

_Aden took the Shabriri's graceful hand and stepped into the shallow water, shivers racing up his spine at her touch. "Wait," he said, inching away and ripping his eyes away from her. "Did you bring anything? We should get that out of the way first."_

"_I couldn't get anything," the Shabriri whispered, sliding farther out into the lagoon. "I just wanted to see you."_

"_I— the Shabriri lunged forward, a ferocious screech ripping from its mouth as its cold hands caught Aden's legs and dragged him into the water. Aden thrashed as hard as he could, breaking the creature's grip for just a moment before it latched back onto him and dragged him deeper. Bubbles of precious air burst from his throat as he gave in to the urge to scream for help, leaving him helpless as he choked on the salty water. Suddenly, a second pair of hands caught Aden's arms and hauled him forward, just far enough to bring his head above water. Choking out the water that had filled his lungs, Aden gasped for air as he was dragged onto the beach in quick, jerky movements. The Shabriri jumped out of the water, its odd, inhuman legs revealed as it pulled itself across the sand toward the boy. Jumping over Aden's exhausted frame, his rescuer kicked the creature toward the left and swung her hatchet from the right. The weapon connected with the side of the Shabriri's neck and stuck with a meaty smack._

"_You are an idiot," Rhia exhaled, kicking the creature's corpse into the water. "Was that who I think it was?"_

"_It was supposed to look like her, yes," Aden said, deep coughs still racking his frame._

"_You have a lot of explaining to do."_

"_Rhia?"_

"_What?"_

"_Thank you."_

* * *

**Mercedes Virgo, Gamemakers HQ, the Capitol**

Virgo sat back in her chair, her hands finally leaving the command keys set in her desk. There it was, her night of mutts. She had planned this from day one, and it had been a success. Sure, nobody had died, but it was only the first night of the creatures. From now on they would be controlled by instinct alone, which could end up being more deadly than having them at her command.

Standing, Virgo rubbed the stiffness out of her arms. Casting her eyes around the room, Virgo tossed several of the small, purple pills into the back of her mouth, swallowing them dry. Her vision immediately sharpened, and the fatigue of running the arena faded away completely. "Crest!" she yelled, watching her assistant's progress as he slipped between the desks of the other Gamemakers toward her.

"Yes?" he asked, putting his pen to the notepad he held in his other arm.

"I've just received a message from a couple of the mentors concerning plans they have for their tributes," Virgo stated rapidly. "I need you to cancel all of the 'excitement' we had planned for tomorrow morning, though the… arrangements we have for the afternoon and evening will still continue. Also, I'm stepping out of the office for a moment, so I'll need you to stay here and record any complaints or issues brought up by the Gamemakers. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Crest replied, grimacing at the thought of dealing with the diverse personalities represented in the room.

"Oh," Virgo said, remembering her last request as she walked toward the large doors leading out of the room. "And put some pressure on Orhior. I'm going to need those birds."

"Absolutely."

* * *

**A/N**

**What does Virgo have planned for tomorrow? Don't worry, the next update should come very quickly. Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	29. Game Changer

**BLOOD RED**

**Kayn (D9)**

A blood red sunrise lit the arena as Kayn ran silently across the white sand, dodging around trees on his way toward the edge of the island. After scouting with Aden and Miles the day before, Kayn had decided that it would be more effective for the team if someone went alone. He volunteered. Not only was he growing tired of keeping Miles and Aden from fighting out their issues, he was tired of the growing uneasiness with their group's position in the Games. Hoping the run would clear his mind, Kayn had left for the cornucopia as soon as the first rays off light had torn him from his dreams.

The first thing on his mind was Tanita. Something had changed in her the night before the Games. The tension in her had eased, and being in the Games had become almost casual for her. Could it have something to do with their escort, Clementine not showing up to see them off to the arena? He would have to ask her about that.

The second thing that was bothering him was Aden and Colleen's secrets, or more accurately the answers they were giving when asked about their secrets. Last night when the group had all been together, they had announced that Athene Harbrick, the girl from district two was smuggling weapons to them. Oddly enough, both Tanita and Rhia barely reacted to the news, returning to their previous activities almost instantly. Miles' reaction was a little more extreme. "Why would she do that?" he had asked. "Why doesn't she just fight for us?" Kayn had wondered the same thing. Personally though, it all seemed a little farfetched. It would take a lot more than the word of the tributes from district eight to convince him that Athene's actions, demeanor, and even the killing of Andelin were all part of some elaborate charade.

Kayn slowed as he approached the tree line, taking several deep breaths before inching out from behind the only barrier between himself and the careers.

He physically staggered at the sight before him.

Dozens of silver parachutes charted a course across the artificial sky all the way down to the ground in front of the cornucopia. Kayn's heart pounded as the various metallic shapes floated gently down to the careers, glinting in the growing sunlight. The careers were jumping up into the air and pulling their prizes from the small parachutes, laughing and shouting in excitement as the gifts rained down on them. Armor, weapons, and food came accompanied with flowers, chocolates, and other Capitol delicacies. There was such an abundance of the small parachutes that the careers eventually gave up trying to open each gift before the next one drifted to the sand, instead opting to take each other's hands and dance around in what was undoubtedly the greatest shower of wealth in the history of the Games. Sweeping the crowd of tributes, Kayn's eyes eventually landed on the reason for the gifts.

Scarlette Blake.

Standing atop the shining cornucopia, Scarlette was wearing the same exquisite cocktail dress she had worn during her interview and was dancing to the beat of unheard music. The sight of the beautiful girl surround by the light of the sunrise was surreal, and Kayn had to force himself to tear his gaze away from her.

Eventually the gifts stopped, and the last one rested at Scarlette's feet. Ending her hypnotizing dance, the girl pushed her hair out of her face and stooped to open it. It was a crown. As she lifted the simple golden circlet into the air in triumph, the symbolism of the gift dawned on Kayn. The Capitol had chosen a Victor.

**The Careers (D1, D2, D3, D4, D12)**

Serenity finished her preparations inside the cornucopia, setting the last of the medical supplies in their places before turning and rejoining the careers. The group sat huddled in a pile of their newfound wealth, uncontrollable grins spreading across each of their faces. "It's incredible," Bliss said, lifting a lethal mace tipped with shards of metal that seemed to be screaming for the blood of its next victim. "This definitely makes up for last night."

"I must say," Athene admitted grudgingly. "It's a good thing you're one of us, Scarlette." The girl smirked, reveling in the appreciation of her talents.

"Thank you, Athene," Scarlette replied, popping a cream filled chocolate square into her mouth. "That means a lot."

"Are you done organizing the medicine?" Isis asked, directing the attention of the group to the small girl standing in the mouth of the cornucopia.

"Yes," Serenity answered, her eyes dropping to the ground as they all scrutinized her.

"Well?" Isis continued. "Anything good?"

"I guess so," Serenity stuttered. "I should be able to treat any wounds sustained over the next couple weeks."

"Weeks?" Slater laughed. "The Games aren't going to last that long."

"Not for our little outlier friends," Athene spat before addressing the group. "You have five minutes to grab everything you need, we're going hunting."

"All of us?" Scarlette asked, fingering the short sword she kept at her side.

"No," Athene answered, strapping several javelins onto her back and sliding a curved sword out of the pile. "You're staying here with Serenity. The rest of us will be more than enough to take care of _them_."

"You're leaving us alone?" Scarlette asked incredulously, panic etched on her face. "What if someone attacks us? What if the Famine Birds come back? Do you really expect us to fight them off by ourselves?" Athene raised an eyebrow.

"She's right," Bliss said, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the ground. "Isis, you stay with them. Those odds should be good enough against the remaining tributes." Strapping an armored vest over his muscled torso, Bliss pulled his shirt back on, concealing the extra protection.

"Is everyone ready?" Athene called, her voice cracking through the air like a whip. Caspian stepped forward and nodded grimly, a wicked looking net clutched in his left hand and a tall halberd in his right. Bass appeared from around the side of the cornucopia, a diverse array of knives strapped in several places on her body. Slater pushed himself up off of the crate serving as his seat, pulling an enormous broadsword with him and hefting a small shield. When the group had assembled Bliss gave Athene a curt nod and she led the group toward the bridge that would take them in the direction of the anti-careers.

"This is going to be fun," Bliss grinned maliciously.

"It is," Athene agreed. "It really is."

**Cable (D3)**

The waves whispering across the sand, the wind pushing its way through the swaying trees, the steady, relaxed rush of air in and out of his own lungs, his blood pumping through his body; all the sounds in Cable's surroundings rushed through his mind upon his awakening, ripping him from his dreams of home and leaving him back on the white sand of the large island. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Cable sat up. The sun was blinding, the brilliant blue of the sea shifted constantly, revealing shadowy creatures beneath. The entire arena looked different. Every sight, sound, and detail was in perfect focus. Cable stood, reaching a hand up and brushing the grains of sand out of his raven hair. One hundred and eighty-nine. He didn't know how it was possible, but he _knew _how many pieces of the infinitesimal rocks had clung to his head. What had happened to him? What was causing the overload of his senses, why did his thoughts seem quicker and clearer than ever before? The only plausible reason he could come up with was the orbs. Grabbing his pack, Cable pulled the glass bottle out of its depths and spilled the purple spheres into his outstretched palm. Picking one out of the bunch, Cable squeezed until it burst, once again spilling the liquid contents. How had he not seen it before? It wasn't a stone, and it definitely wasn't a berry. It was a pill. As to why the pills were in the arena, Cable had no idea. What he _did _know was that while their origin was a mystery, their value was not. The pills had made him completely awake, completely aware, and he could feel his mind moving quicker by the minute.

Standing and placing the pills back into the glass bottle, Cable scanned his surroundings. While the mountain was enticing in its possibilities, something about the beach kept his attention. It may have just been the presence of the pills, but Cable had a sneaking suspicion that it was something more. Traveling around the area where the fallen pills had lain, Cable trained his eyes and ears on the sand. He couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed before. The sand shifting slightly, the dull pounding rumbling up from below, it could only amount to one thing.

The inner workings of the island were apparently closer to the surface than the Capitol would like everyone to believe. Cable smiled. This was it. This was his chance to win the Games.

**Anti-Career Alliance (D7,D8,D9,D10)**

Rhia sat in the sand beneath the tall, rugged shelter, cleaning the blade of her axe when Kayn crashed through the jungle, entering the clearing with a shout that scattered the birds from the trees. "The Careers!"

"What about them?" Rhia asked curtly, turning her head to watch her other allies climb down from their various perches in and around the shelter.

"It was the most incredible thing I've ever seen," Kayn gasped, taking big gulping breaths until he was ready to continue. "Parachutes. Everywhere. They have everything they could possibly want now, and they're on their way." Rhia swallowed her dread, tightening her grip on the single small axe that she held in her hand.

"We knew it was going to happen eventually," Aden announced, breaking the silence. "And while they may have the advantage when it comes to weaponry, they _don't_ have the element of surprise."

"That's right," Colleen agreed. "We can't just stand here and wait for them to come. We have time, let's use it."

"Okay, what's the plan, fearless leaders?" Miles sneered, turning to Aden and Colleen. "Do we hide and yell 'Boo!' when they get here?"  
"Not quite," Aden frowned. "Look, they'll probably all come charging in as a pack, right?" The group nodded. "They're probably expecting us to either be traveling or sitting around a campfire twiddling our thumbs. Let's use that arrogance against them. One thing that I learned from the peacekeepers back in district eight was that if a bully gets his way, if he sees what he wants to see, and gets the reaction that he wants to get, he'll stop thinking about the situation clearly. The careers are just a different kind of bully, and they'll act the same way. So set up a camp, and hide your weapons. Remember, they don't expect us to have them. They'll still be on a high from receiving their new toys, so they'll probably get pretty close before they attack."

"We have to be the ones that attack," Rhia cut in. "We can't wait to respond."

"I like the way she thinks," Miles grinned. "The best defense is a good offense, right?"

"I'll try to talk to them," Aden volunteered, regaining the attention of the group. "When I say the codeword 'Storm' don't look at anyone else, don't hesitate, just strike at whoever is closest to you."

"And remember guys," Tanita said. "Athene's on our side, and she'll be armed to the teeth. That may be the greatest asset we have."

"That's right!" Colleen chirped. "If she's along on the hunting trip, she can help us." Rhia glared venomously at Aden. There was no way this was going to end well.

"Let's set up our little stage," Aden said carefully, avoiding Rhia's gaze as he directed each of the group to an area. "And remember, stay away from the shelter. It will just end up being a death trap."

**Bandit (D10)**

Bandit wrenched her last arrow from the body of the small white cat, tossing it onto the pile of dead mutts that the Gamemakers had sent after her the night before. The girl sighed in relief, her hand absentmindedly floating up to touch her scar. If these small animals were the best they could come up with, she would be safe as long as she stayed clear of the other tributes.

After traveling away from the thin line of trees that had faced the front of the island, Bandit had found that the Island gave way to a new landscape. The black, jagged rocks she had seen on the edges of the other islands stabbed into the sky, several of them standing at twice Bandit's own height. The ground between the standing stones was wet and marshy, allowing for minimal plant life and the formation of several pools of quicksand. Bandit had thankfully learned to spot these during training, and had been able to avoid them fairly easily. Jumping over one of smaller pools, Bandit turned back toward the trees. There was movement. Whipping an arrow out of a quiver she had fashioned out of palm fronds, Bandit pulled back and released, watching intently as the arrow flew toward one of the tall trees. The projectile thudded into the soft wood, causing the figure behind the tree to flinch, coming into view for just a moment. A moment was all she needed. "Come out!" Bandit yelled, nocking a second arrow. "I know you're there." Andrew Feller stepped out from behind the tree, standing unnaturally still as the quiet breeze played with his unkempt hair. "I don't _want_ to kill you!" Bandit shouted. "But that doesn't mean I won't do it." Wetting her dry lips, Bandit took several deep breaths, steadying her shaking hands. "Turn around and go." The boy just stood there, as if Bandit hadn't said a word. Taking aim at the boy's left shoulder, Bandit opened her mouth to give him his last warning.

She didn't speak in time.

A body hit her from behind, sending Bandit crashing into the watery sand and sending the arrow flying toward Andrew. Twisting away from her attacker, Bandit looked up into the eyes of Grace Feller, who stabbed the end of a spear down into the sand where Bandit had just lain. Clawing her way toward the girl, Bandit wrenched the spear out of her hands and kicked her in the side, sending her sprawling into the pool of quicksand. Leaping to her feet Bandit swept her bow from the ground and turned to run, only to be faced with Andrew. Bandit screamed, her eyes falling on the bloody arrow protruding from the boy's thigh. Stepping forward, Andrew knocked the weapons out of Bandit's hands with his own spear before twisting and striking again. Bandit threw up her arm, trying to ward off the blow, but the razor sharp blade cut her arm to the bone, sending her crashing to the ground in shock. As the boy limped closer, ready to deliver the deathblow, the sight of Sawyer flashed through Bandit's mind. He had died, she realized, because he had failed to act. Lunging forward with bestial tenacity, Bandit's hands closed around the arrow still sticking in the boy's leg. Twisting the shaft with all of her might, Bandit brought the boy to his knees as he cried out in pain. Lifting herself onto her feet and cradling her wounded arm, Bandit ran. Swerving around the dark rocks and avoiding the deeper puddles of swirling salt water, Bandit sent up a silent, frantic prayer.

God, save me.

**Careers (D1, D2, D3, D4, D12) + Anti-Career Alliance (D7, D8, D9, D10)**

Rhia looked up as soon as the careers arrived in the clearing around the shelter, wincing slightly as their arsenal began to fall into their hands, ready for use. Swords, spears, maces; the list was endless. The only weakness she could see was their heavy breathing. They had obviously run all the way from the cornucopia. "We found you," Athene laughed in triumph, a fiendish glee lighting up her eyes and reflecting in those of her allies.

"What is that?" Bass asked, gesturing casually toward the stilted shelter with one of her knives as the group of careers slowly began to move away from each other, encircling the other tributes as easily and comfortably as a pride of lions.

"Oh, that's just a little vacation home we put together," Aden answered, cracking a convincing nervous grin. "Do you like it?" The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the fifth cannon booming throughout the arena. The careers shared a meaningful look; hopefully the cannon wasn't meant for any of the allies they had left at the cornucopia.

"Why didn't you run further?" Athene barked, breaking the silence.

"Well, honestly," Aden said, shuffling toward one of the shelter's long, sturdy legs. "We didn't think you'd be so… _proactive_."

Athene snorted. "So what does it feel like?" the girl gloated. "To be so close to death. Is there a chill like they say? Or do you see a light at the end of your tunnel?" The girl smiled sadistically.

"Oh, we all saw this coming," Aden answered, inching away from Caspian as soon as he noticed the boy behind his shoulder. "Kind of like a coming _storm._"

The clearing erupted.

Throwing herself forward, Rhia twisted her hatchet skillfully through the air toward Athene. The other girl easily blocked the blow, but she was meant to. Slipping around Athene's left side, Rhia grabbed a larger axe from where it hung attached to the girl's belt. Whipping around, Athene sent Rhia into a hasty retreat, but the damage was already done. She had the weapon. Athene's face twisted into a snarl. "I've been waiting for this," Athene hissed. Throwing herself forward, Athene launched an aggressive attack that sent Rhia stumbling backward. The younger girl was faster than Rhia had imagined, and it took every bit of Rhia's concentration to block and parry the never-ending, lightning fast blows. Ducking down into a crouch, Rhia felt the whistle of Athene's short sword passing over her head as she swept her axe forward at Athene's feet with a fierce chop. Athene jumped over the axe, passing over Rhia's head and landing in the sand behind the girl from seven. Spinning suddenly, Rhia cleaved the air in front of Athene with the larger axe, sending her stumbling backward to avoid a fatal wound.

"I thought you'd be better," Rhia exhaled, blowing her curling blonde hair out of her eyes. Athene charged.

Kayn's sickles materialized in his hands, pulled from the shallow layer of sand that had covered them only seconds before Aden had signaled their surprise attack. Blocking out the chaos raging around him, Kayn pushed himself up from where he had lain on the ground and crouched down like a panther, quickly springing at the nearest threat: Bliss. Slashing the first blade across the boy's chest, Kayn aimed the second at his exposed throat only to be knocked flat on the ground by the butt of Bliss's mace. Wiping away the blood from his lip, Kayn looked up in shock. Bliss was completely unharmed by Kayn's initial attack and was now bringing his mace down in a crushing blow. Rolling away from the weapon's trajectory, Kayn immediately jumped forward again, this time noting the body armor hiding beneath the tattered remains of Bliss's shirt. Sidestepping a second swipe of Bliss's mace, Kayn thrust a sickle forward and into a tight curve that carved around the other boy's unprotected shoulder, splashing blood onto the white sand. A guttural roar exploded from the boy as his left arm fell to his side, useless. "You're going to pay for that," Bliss growled, launching a renewed assault on his smaller opponent. Dropping the heavy mace on the ground, Bliss drew a sword from the sheath on his back. Adjusting his grip on the glittering length of steel, the boy swung at Kayn, switching direction mid-swing and sending the sword crashing into the sickles Kayn had pushed forward as a defense. One of the weapons flew from Kayn's grasp, the blow stinging his hand as the sickle fell in the sand next to the blurred shapes of the other fighters. Surging forward, Bliss stabbed at Kayn's gut, overstepping himself as the boy twisted away from the strike. Seeing the opening, Kayn struck out with an elbow, connecting with the boy's temple and sending him sprawling into the sand. Running over to his dropped weapon, Kayn swept it up and turned to face Bliss, only to see the boy struggling to rise from the ground. This was his chance. Stepping quickly and cautiously toward the shuddering frame of his enemy, Kayn lifted his sickle and prepared to do what he'd been training to do for twelve years.

Then he heard the scream.

Searching the rest of the clearing, Kayn's eyes halted on the image of the district eight tributes at the mercy of the boy from district four. They needed help. Taking one last look at the defeated form of Bliss, Kayn charged across the clearing and straight toward Caspian.

As soon as the other anti-careers had chosen their opponents, Tanita closed in on Bass, backing the girl up until they were on the edge of the clearing. Tanita smiled. The other girl was at least a head shorter than Tanita, and in her experience, size usually won. The two girls circled each other, knives in each of their hands, waiting for the other to make the first move. When the sound of the other combatants was behind her, Tanita lunged forward, slashing her longest knife through the air toward Bass. Jumping backward, the other girl's white hair fanned out around her as she spun around the trunk of a bent palm tree. Jumping forward before Tanita had time to react, Bass lashed out at Tanita's outstretched arm with a vicious kick, spinning the larger girl around with the force of the blow and sending the long knife spinning into the overgrowth. With a grunt of frustration, Tanita pounced at Bass, hacking at the girl's arm with her remaining knife and moving to rake her fingernails across Bass's face. Bass, however, swept Tanita's empty hand away with ease, punching her in the gut and leaving her on the ground, out of breath. "Don't run from me," Tanita choked, confused at the other girl's hasty departure. Bass stiffened up and turned, her own confusion showing clearly on her face as she watched Tanita stand and stumble forward. Tanita looked her opponent up and down, finally realizing what she had failed to notice before; Bass was only holding one of her knives. Looking down, Tanita's eyes grew wide at the sight of the gleaming hilt protruding from her gut. She wasn't running, Tanita thought, Bass had already done what she came to do. Dropping to her knees, Tanita wrenched the knife out of her gut and stared as her own blood dripped off of the end of the flawless blade. Bass left, moving on to her next target without a second look. Tanita was already forgotten. Her face hit the sand and the sixth cannon boomed throughout the arena.

Slater blocked Miles' surprising strike with his shield and swept his broadsword at the boy with enough force to split him in half. The brunt of the blow was caught on Miles' weapon, a crude sword, and the length of gray steel fell to the sand. "Hey now," Miles said quickly, skipping out of range of Slater's sword. "This is hardly fair, is it? Let's give the Capitol a show." Slater looked the boy up and down. Miles was tall, and built like one of the bulls back in his home district, making him undoubtedly the closest to Slater's own bulk still in the arena. The district two sponsors were going to go wild.

"Let's do it," Slater said with a grin. Dropping his sword and letting his shield slip from his grasp, Slater stalked closer to the other boy, his arms outstretched. Bulling rushing forward, Slater feinted a jab with his left hand, barely tapping Miles' defense as he committed fully to a right hook aimed at the boy's unprotected side. He felt a rib break as his fist connected, but Slater grunted in surprise as Miles brought up a knee and jammed it into his gut. Kicking out wildly, Miles knocked Slater onto his back and jumped forward, landing on Slater's chest and punching the boy in the jaw with a ferocious swing. Catching the boy's arm before he could swing a second time, Slater rolled over, reversing their position and pinning Miles' arms to the ground. Leaning back for just a moment, Slater swung his head forward and brought it crashing into the other boy's face. Miles' body went limp as the blood gushed from his nose, and a deep groan escaped from his lips. Arching his back and looking up into the sky, Slater let out a roar of triumph. The movement was all Miles needed.

Sweat dripped from both girls as they circled each other, their breath coming in heavy gasps. Athene stretched her shoulders, reopening a shallow cut that Rhia had carved across Athene's back. Lunging forward, Athene struck at Rhia's right hand with her sword, wincing at the hellish screech of colliding metal as Rhia defended herself. Launching into a series of simple attacks, Athene took her mind off of the automatic motions and instead focused on Rhia's movements. She was smart, and was defending conservatively; not wasting energy on what was obviously not a main assault. Twisting out of her routine, Athene slashed at Rhia's face, catching the girl off guard. Rhia reacted quickly enough to parry the attack, but the blade still managed to clip her shoulder, forcing a choked gasp to escape from Rhia's throat. This was her chance. Athene jumped forward, pressing her attack toward Rhia's injured side and following her as she retreated across the sand. "You have nowhere to go, sweetheart," Athene grinned, clenching her teeth as she continued the attack. Rhia suddenly dropped the larger axe, tossing the small hatchet into her uninjured hand and whipping it with tremendous speed at the pursuing girl. Athene dropped to her knees and fell on her back, narrowly avoiding the flying hatchet. Jumping back to her feet, Athene saw Rhia running toward the tall, stilted shelter, the larger axe already back in her grasp. Lifting the axe into the air, Rhia brought it down on one of the already weakened stilts with as much force as she could muster. She only had time for one blow, but it was enough.

The entire shelter leaned dangerously toward the middle of the clearing, hanging suspended in the air for a moment before careening down on the tributes' heads. Athene scrambled to the forest watching grudgingly as Rhia ran into the jungle, using the chaos created by the falling shelter to mask her escape.

Slater pushed himself out from under the rubble created by the fallen shelter, rubbing his bruised shoulder as his eyes scanned the wreckage for his opponent. A wet groan rose up from under a pile of shredded planks. Picking his way over to the source of the noise, Slater moved a piece of the rough wood and revealed Miles. The boy was coughing up copious amounts of blood and his hands scratched feebly at the fist sized plank protruding from his chest. He wasn't alive for long.

Smiling proudly, Slater picked up his weapons and walked over to his allies as the seventh cannon sounded. "I got him," Slater breathed, looking the others up and down. Bliss was standing up slowly, shaking his head and keeping his arm still. Caspian was lying on the sand, his leg stretched out in front of him and a look of pain spread across his face. Bass sat next to him, the absence of any cuts on her body betraying the fact that the blood dried on her hands was not her own. Athene was staring venomously back at her district partner.

"_You _got him?" she asked. "It looks more like the broken house did most of the killing."

"What are you trying to say, Athene?" Slater spat.

"Oh, nothing," Athene smirked. "I'm just thinking the broken house might be a more valuable addition to the our alliance than _you_ are."

"I— Slater began.

"Shut up," Athene interrupted. "Everyone, tell me what happened. We only got two of them."

"I killed the girl from nine," Bandit replied quietly. "I was coming to help you with Rhia when the shelter fell."

"I fought the boy from nine," Bliss muttered. "He was about to kill me, but he ran off."

"Any injuries we should know about?" Athene asked, her eyes wide in astonishment.

"I can't move my arm," Bliss choked, biting back the tears. "He must have cut a tendon." There was a moment of silence. Glances were exchanged among the tributes as they began to realize what they were up against.

"I was fighting district eight," Caspian spoke up, directing the group's attention away from the wounded boy. "I wounded the girl in the leg, and was about to finish her off when the boy from nine got to me. He sliced my leg, picked the girl up, and ran off with the other guy. The cut isn't so bad, but I will definitely need something to fight infection."

"Only two dead and one injured," Athene listed, turning and trudging away from the crumbled pile of wood. "Oh, and Slater was able to prove how much of an idiot he is. Again. Congratulations, O'Brien, you may have just lost us the Games."

"I killed someone!" Slater yelled. "How can you say _I _lost us the Games? You didn't exactly make any headway with the girl from seven, did you?"

"You could have killed him in two seconds if you'd kept your sword," Athene said, stepping closer to her allies. "But you just _had _to waste time with your little macho muscle show. If you hadn't been so full of yourself, you could have helped Bliss and finished off the boy from nine. You could have helped any one of us, and this whole attack could have ended differently. Don't say a word about Rhia either; she would have carved you into ribbons if you'd been anywhere near her."

"Are you sure about that?" Slater sneered. "Next time we see her, I bet I can kill her faster than you can say, 'My score was matched by someone from an outlier district.'"

"Guys, calm down," Bass interjected, pointing her knife back toward their camp. "We still don't know who that first cannon was for today, so we'd better head back to camp."

"No," Athene said immediately. "Those of us who are healthy need to go after Rhia and the others. We can't just let them get away."

"That's true," Caspian replied. "But look around, do you see what I see?"

"What?" Slater asked confused. "I don't see anything."

"Exactly," Caspian said pointedly. "No parachutes. Guys, they got their weapons from the cornucopia. One of us is a traitor."

"Not one of _us_," Athene said darkly, turning her back on the trail Rhia had taken away from the camp and heading back toward the beach. "We all fought against them. Whoever betrayed us is back at the cornucopia."

**A/N**

**There you go, a chapter over 5,000 words! RIP to Tanita and Miles. Thank you to their creators! Both were a joy to write and caused enough of a splash to get a reaction out of my readers. THEY WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN.**

**Thank you for your time!**

**-IVV**


	30. Showdown

**GAMEMAKERS**

"This is _completely _invigorating, Mercedes. No matter who wins, you're getting an award for this, I can _feel _it." Lattice sat back in her chair and crossed her legs lazily, grinning across the room in the general direction of the Head Gamemaker's desk.

"Agreed," Paris Govermann intoned, his eyes glued to a monitor replaying the scene of the crumbling shelter. "You truly are one of the best. The Famine Birds in the moonlight were exquisite, but this catastrophe was undeniably the most _thrilling _moment in the Games so far."

"And the tribute from ten's death was the icing on the cake!" Lattice giggled fiendishly. "It was _spectacular_, it really was."

"Spectacular," Virgo repeated softly to herself, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. Standing quickly to her feet, Virgo only had to wait a few moments before she gained the attention of the room. "I think I need a moment to collect my thoughts," she announced. "If _anything _happens, you can find me in the lounge. Otherwise, I will _not _appreciate any interruptions."

"Of course, Dear," Lattice called after her as she stepped out of the room. "Take all the time you need."

**TRIBUTES**

Lannah spat the thick leaf out of her mouth, replacing it with another and sucking the small amount of moisture out of it as quickly as she had the last. Her chapped lips split as she repeated the motion.

"You're bleeding," Till noticed when he returned to the small cave they had found at the base of the mountain.

"It's just my lip," Lannah said, waving off his concern. "These leaves aren't enough anymore though, we need to find a better water source."

"Don't worry, I have a plan," Till said confidently. Lannah looked up at Till expectantly. "We're going to raid the cornucopia."

"Don't be stupid," Lannah laughed, laying back on the soft sand and stretching out her tired legs. "We've been pretty much ignored so far, and that has worked to our advantage. We don't need to go throwing _ourselves_ into harm's way."

"I'm not being stupid!" Till argued, sitting down next to his ally. "Didn't you see the parachutes this morning? They _have _to have water there. They probably have food too."

"I'm sure they do," Lannah replied matter-of-factly. "But what are we supposed to do? Fight all the careers off with our bare hands?" The supply bag that Till had grabbed from the cornucopia had been a large disappointment, the only supplies inside being a box of matches and several blankets that were too heavy and rough to serve as anything other than a shield from the sun.

"They're all going to leave," Till explained. "They're hunting the other tributes. I can fight off the girls that stay behind while you get whatever we need."

"What are you going to fight them with?" Lannah asked suspiciously, looking over their meager store of food. It made sense that Till would want to restock their supplies, but something was off. He hadn't looked her in the eyes since his return from outside.

"If we can get close to the cornucopia without them noticing, I can pick up something they've left on the ground."

"Fine," Lannah answered, studying him closely. "But we watch them until the sun goes down, and we only go when I say. Agreed?"

"Let's go then," Till said immediately, jumping up and exiting the cave.

"Wait!" Lannah called. "I have an idea!"

**GAMEMAKERS**

Virgo walked directly to the lounge's back wall, pressing her back into the corner farthest from the door and sliding down until she hit the floor. Pressing her cold hands over her ears and squeezing her eyelids shut, Virgo took a deep breath. Finally, she shivered, silence. After being in front of everyone for so long, she just needed to hide. She needed to be _unseen_. "But isn't this worse?" she asked in horror as the silence set it, her hands dropping into her lap as her voice bounced off of the walls of the empty room. "Now I am alone with the mastermind behind that twisted, glorified execution; I am alone with myself."

Virgo had hoped that her Games would be beautiful, but that it would be forgotten; that it would stand out enough to keep her alive, but be understated enough that she would be able to retire early. She couldn't help herself though, and with the President's words of advice prodding her along, she had created something to remember. Lattice Grand had said it was spectacular, and _everyone _new she wanted Virgo's job. Paris Govermann had called her one of the best, and _he _had worked under seven different Gamemakers during his career. The President himself had even sent a note congratulating her on the recent development between the tributes. It made her sick.

Lattice's maniacal laugh echoed in Virgo's mind. "The tribute from ten's death was the icing on the cake," she had said. He hadn't just been a tribute, though, he'd had a name; he'd had a life. His life, like the lives of all the others, had been brimming with potential for love, success, and happiness, but that life was destroyed by the cruel hand of someone who hadn't even cared enough to know what they were destroying.

Miles Taylor. The other tributes weighed on her conscience as well, but Virgo had _picked _him. He hadn't been reaped; he had been unfairly ripped from his world, and then the world in its entirety. _She_ had done it, too. _She_ was responsible.

Looking at the pictures of this year's tributes that lined the walls of the Gamemaker's lounge, the truth rattled Virgo to the core. Out of all of them, _she _was the one that deserved to die.

"Virgo!" Crest called from behind the door. "Something's going on in the arena. You may want to come back."

"I'll be right there," Virgo croaked, tearing her eyes away from Miles' picture. She didn't want to go back. She wanted to stay here, where her thoughts were her own, and she couldn't hurt anyone.

"Virgo," Crest called again, his tone more hurried than before. "Hurry."

**TRIBUTES**

"Don't lie to me," Athene threatened in a low whisper, forcing Scarlette up against the cornucopia and holding a knife to her exposed throat. "I know it was you."

"Stop," Scarlette begged, her tears soaking the blade that cut into her neck every time she took a deep, shuddering breath. "I swear it wasn't me."

"It's going to take a bit more than your _word _to convince me," Athene hissed.

"Athene, stop," Caspian agreed. "We don't know if it was her." Athene laughed.

"Who else?" The girl asked incredulously, gesturing at Serenity who stood quietly in the back of the cornucopia. "Her?"

"It has to be Scarlette," Isis interjected before anyone else could say a word. "She manipulated her way into the alliance from the beginning, it makes sense that she would want to manipulate her way out of it."

"You're the only ones keeping me alive!" Scarlette exclaimed. "_Why_ would I want to kill you?"

"She's right, Athene," Slater said, putting a hand on his district partner's shoulder and pushing her away from the terrified girl. "I think it was Twelve."

"Don't touch me," Athene barked, hurriedly stepping away from Slater. "And _you _don't get to say _anything_. We all know how you feel about _Ms. Blake_."

"I'll do whatever I _want, _Athene," Slater growled, following Athene across the sand and stretching up to his full height. "So you can just stop telling me what to do."

"Oh," Athene smiled vindictively. "Look who finally decided to grow a _spine._ Well, I'm sorry, O'Brien, but it's not going to do you very much good, you're still the weakest one out of the bunch of us."

"Guys, stop," Bass warned. "We have a traitor, remember? You guys can fight about this later."

"No, I don't think we can," Slater smiled viciously, pulling his sword from its sheath. "I think we should end it. Now."

"With pleasure, princess," Athene spat. "And we'll solve our little problem at the same time. If _I _win, Scarlette dies. If _he_ wins, we kill Twelve." Scarlette stared wide-eyed at the tributes around her.

"_This _is how you're solving the problem?" Scarlette screeched. "You're being ridiculous!"

"Bass, Caspian," Athene ordered, as if Scarlette hadn't said a word. "You two make sure nobody leaves without permission. Bliss, you choose the weapons."

"Why does he choose?" Slater asked gruffly, glaring at the district one boy.

"Because he's an impartial third-party, moron," Athene snorted.

"No weapons," Bliss said when the two tributes turned to face him. "Hand-to-hand combat."

**MENTORS**

Clinking glasses echoed throughout the Victor's lounge, breaking the silence that hung heavily in the air. "May the best mentor win," Alice Quarry smiled, pulling her glass away from where it had struck Cage's and tipping the contents into her mouth.

"Agreed, Alice," Cage smiled. "But I have a feeling it's going to be me."

"I think they _both_ just lost their chance for a Victor," Margaret Plexigon said darkly to her fellow mentor.

"They _are _going to be the only career district without a full team, even if Bliss _is _injured," Buzz replied, nodding in agreement. "It was foolish of them to pit their tributes against each other, especially considering how strong district Four is this year." The two mentors sat quietly together, squeezed side by side into an armchair meant for one person. Though their victories were three years apart, the two mentors were the same age when Buzz led Margaret to victory, leading to a much talked about romance that spawned a Capitol wedding celebration that lasted for several weeks. Their own popularity had undoubtedly contributed to that of the smiling, gorgeous girl who had broken every sponsoring record in the history of the Games.

"Who do you think will win?" Margaret whispered in Buzz's ear, making sure that the other mentors were unable to hear her question.

"I'm not sure," Buzz whispered back. "Slater's been running on emotions for a while now, and we all know where that leads, but Athene is operating under a _lot_ of arrogance. It could be either one."

"What do we do if she dies?" Margaret asked again, her eyes flickering over the image of Scarlette slumped against the cornucopia. "I don't know if I can do this again, Buzz. It's starting to weigh on me."

"Everything will be okay," Buzz whispered, kissing the top of his wife's head and twirling his fingers in a lock of her black, curling hair. "Even if she isn't the one, the boy still has a chance."

"Cable?" Margaret asked. "The boy digging a hole on the beach?"

"Yes," Buzz chuckled. "One can never be sure when it comes to the Games."

"Cheese ball," Margaret teased affectionately. "What's the plan if Athene wins? And the go after Scarlette?"

"We'll have to demonstrate her value," Buzz mused, partially to himself. "An expensive gift. Other than that, there's not much else we can do."

**TRIBUTES**

The tributes from district two stood facing each other, their eyes openly sweeping their opponent as each analyzed the other. Slater moved first, rushing forward in an attempt to knock Athene off of her feet. Dropping into a low crouch, Athene slid to the side and lashed out at Slater's legs as he passed, sending him crashing to the sand where she immediately landed a vicious blow to the side of his head. Grunting in pain, Slater rolled away from Athene and into a crouch, blinking the stars out of his eyes as his opponent got slowly to her feet. "You can't win, you know that right?" Athene asked, stretching her shoulders. "I've been training since— Slater interrupted her with a grunt, pouncing forward and launching a series of wide, sweeping attacks that sent her spinning out of his reach to avoid the onslaught. Jumping into the air, Athene kicked forward with both feet, the blow connecting with Slater's outstretched fist. A sickening crack ripped through the air, followed by Slater's guttural scream. Athene landed on her back in the sand, quickly twisting onto her feet and surveying the damage she had done. Slater knelt on the sand in shock, inspecting his hand and the three fingers that hung at an odd angle. It wasn't his dominant hand, Athene noted, but it was a weakness she could exploit. Rushing at Slater's kneeling form, Athene jumped at the last minute, flying over his attempt at a block and landing on the sand behind him. She span, preparing for an easy blow to his right temple. She was too late. Slater already stood facing her, his teeth gritted in pain from his broken fingers. Blocking Athene's swing with his forearm, Slater struck at her face, pushing through her hastily prepared block and knocking her flat on her back. With a single hop forward, Slater was back at her side, his foot immediately connecting with her ribs and forcing an animal cry to escape from her lips as she rolled onto her stomach.

"I can't win, can I?" Slater crowed. "I'm not good enough for you, am I?" Athene winced as she struggled to stand, her left arm staying close to her side to protect her ribs.

"You'll never be good enough," she spat. "You were a freak the day you were born, and you'll die just the same." Lunging at the girl's defeated form with a furious growl, Slater hit the sand hard as Athene flipped him over her head and he landed at Bliss's feet. "Thought I was done?" she asked, feigning a tired lunge forward and causing Slater to flinch. Athene laughed.

"You still think you're so big and bad," Slater coughed, getting to his feet as the breath slowly returned to his body. "Do your little friends here even know that you _weren't _the one who killed the boy?"

"What boy?" Bass asked, the shock of Slater's revelation registering plainly on her face.

"The boy from ten," he answered, taking his eyes off of Athene for a moment to survey his allies. "Andelin."

"So what if I didn't kill him?" Athene smirked. "I'm still going to kill _you_." Stepping forward, Athene faked a blow to Slater's right, instead opting to swing at his broken hand. Pulling his hand behind his back, Slater took the blow to his side, only flinching slightly as it connected before lurching forward and knocking his forehead against Athene's unprotected face. Athene crumpled to the ground at his feet with a whimper. Pulling the girl to her feet, Slater wrapped his arm around her neck, crushing her windpipe. "You're done, Athene."

The blade punched cleanly through Slater's back and exploded through the front of his chest, missing Athene's head by inches. "No," Bliss grunted, drawing the sword out of his dying ally. "She's not." The eighth cannon sounded in the arena.

**A/N**

**RIP Slater. Finally, the fight came to a head, and Athene came out on top... Or did she? There has been a LOT of chatter about these two, and I'm sorry to end it...**

**However, there can only be one Victor.**

**-IVV**


End file.
